Growing Up Girl
by Static Prose
Summary: (15 of ?) Set in modern times, AU, Duo POV. The life, the love, the difficulties of growing up trapped in a body that is incongruent with your mind. The story of one boy becoming a woman. Transsexual, transgender, mtf, trans, etc. issues.
1. Chapter 1

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Growing up Girl  
  
by Jake (formerly Marin2x1)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I've always wanted to write this story. I've finally worked up the courage to do so, but Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me. Forgive the lack of centered text where it should be. I don't feel like converting to html.  
  
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I was born on a Tuesday night. There was a storm outside. A very fierce one. That alone could be seen as an omen of the turbulent times to come. Even my birth was difficult. My mother went through hours of labor without any pain medication on the kitchen floor of our house, only my father there to help her. The storm had wiped out the power on the entire block, residents were warned to stay inside due to the high winds and hail and tornados that had been spotted nearby. So my parents stayed inside.  
  
The birth had not been easy; I know because I've been told the story many times. In the end, though, I came into the world and was wrapped in a blanket by happy father and handed to my crying mother. "It's a boy," my father had whispered lovingly, wiping off my head with the blanket. How those words would haunt me for the remainder of my life.  
  
He'd always wanted a son. My mother had always wanted a daughter.  
  
As I steadily grew up, I was told this story many times: how I was brought into the world. Sometimes my father would tell me with a bit of regret in his eyes, like having a child had tied him down. My parents had always imagined they'd be young forever and would travel the world. My mother would tell me with hurt in her eyes, remembering the pain of it all vividly. I often felt regret that I'd been born.  
  
My father brought me a bright red truck for my third birthday. I remember blankly staring at the bulky plastic object as it sat in my lap on the living room floor. I gave it an experimental roll on the shag carpet in front of me. My father smiled as I looked up at him.  
  
"Baby doll?" I asked timidly. I was a quiet child.  
  
His eyebrows lowered. I remember this being one of the first times my father looked at me with anger in such a way. Many more were to come. "Boys don't play with dolls." His voice was bland and flat as he tried to control his emotions.  
  
"Wanna baby doll." I stared sadly at the truck as it sat motionless in front of me. I knew I would never touch it again as I picked it up and toddled my way into my bedroom. I put it in the closet and never took it out again.  
  
Preschool was a horrible time. My hair had grown out a bit and I wanted to wear barrettes on my first day. I snuck into the bathroom and grabbed a few of my mother's hair clips and put them into the front pocket of my coveralls. On the way to the school, my mother mentioned that I needed a haircut. We'd go get a haircut after school. I shrank into my seat in fear.  
  
The classroom was an uncertain place for me, but I gladly left my mother behind to wander inside, over to the toys. I pulled a plastic doll out of a large toy chest and clung to it lovingly. My first time holding one. A girl came up beside me and took out another doll and clung to it the same as I did. "What's yer name?"  
  
"Duo," I said in my squeaky child voice.  
  
She stared at me. "Is that a boy or a girl name?"  
  
I gave it a moment's thought. "It's a girl name." She smiled at me and told me her name was Hilde. We sat down on the floor to play with our baby dolls. My mother's shadow loomed over me. I clung tightly to the doll. She snatched it from my hands and threw it into the toy box.  
  
"We've told you before: boys don't play with dolls!" I knew she was furious with me. I slouched down as far as I could, staring at the floor in shame. Hilde got up and wandered away from me. "Don't let me catch you doing that again." She left to go speak to the teacher, who nodded in understanding. Then she left.  
  
I took the barrettes out of my coveralls and clumsily clipped them into my hair as best I could.  
  
Later that day, after the teacher took notice, she told me I had to remove them, or my mother would be mad. I refused. At the end of the day, she came to pick me up and was once again angry as we got into the car. I was happy that she was mad enough not to take me to get my hair cut. I didn't like the reaction I got from my father, though, as he took me over his knee and spanked me angrily, until I was sobbing and trying to squirm away in fear. He pushed me off of his lap onto the floor and stomped out of the room, leaving me to pull my pants up in shame.  
  
The worst part was, I didn't even know what I'd done wrong. I was confused as hell.  
  
It was weeks later before my mother took me to get my hair cut. I was shaking in fear, anger, and sadness the entire time. My mother noticed. "Son, you're just getting a haircut. It won't hurt."  
  
"Don't want a haircut," I whispered shakily, stroking one hand through the length of it. It reached down to my shoulders and just slightly lower.  
  
I ended up with a near buzz-cut. I cried the entire way home, curled up in the backseat. I refused to tell my mother what was wrong.  
  
We went shopping for clothes before kindergarten began. She refused to let me have the pink shirt with a picture of a sparkly horse and rainbow on the front. I wasn't even allowed to go into the girl's section. I stared longingly at the bright, beautiful colors as I was dragged past.  
  
Shopping for shoes was bad. I spotted the most wonderful pair of white sandals with pink plastic flowers stuck to the sides. I picked them up and held them lovingly. "Mommy, can I have these?" I was so excited. They were beautiful. They were perfect.  
  
She looked at them for a moment before lowering her eyebrows in anger. "Those are girls' shoes, son." She picked up a pair of black sneakers from the shelves containing the boys' shoes. "Why don't you try these on?"  
  
I got angry. For the first time I can remember, I got angry at her words. "I don't want those. They're boy shoes."  
  
She was getting angry, as well. "You are a boy, Duo."  
  
I burst into tears. "I am not!" I stamped my foot incredulously and gripped the shoes in my tiny hands.  
  
"Yes you are. You're not a girl!" My mother got steadily more angry as I persisted. She clenched the small sneaker tightly in her hand and glared at me.  
  
"I am so a girl!" I didn't realize what had happened to me as I leaned back against the shelves, my face burning. The shoes I loved so much had been stolen away from me and the tears rolled silently down my cheeks. I looked sadly up at my mother. She glared back at me.  
  
"Try on these goddamn shoes, Duo." I sat down and silently did as I was told. We ended up buying the black sneakers.  
  
Kindergarten was slightly different from preschool. As soon as I got off the school bus, I saw Hilde. I ran up to her excitedly, my tiny, near-empty backpack bouncing against me. She saw me and gave me a hug. "Hi Duo."  
  
Hilde's mother looked down at me strangely. She had given her child a ride to school and was going to help her find her class. "Is this your friend, Hilde?" She nodded happily. Her mother knelt down in front of me. "Where's your mommy, little man?" My hair was still cut short.  
  
"She's home."  
  
Hilde's mother took my hand and led me into the school. Hilde and I both had the same class. I was ecstatic. We both rushed inside to play with the toys. Spotting a plastic kitchen set, we decided to cook plastic eggs and bacon on a plastic stove. Hilde picked up a doll. "We're gonna play house. You're the daddy and I'm the mommy."  
  
I reached for the baby doll. "I wanna be the mommy."  
  
She pulled away. "Boys can't be mommies. Only girls are mommies."  
  
"I'm gonna be a girl when I grow up," I said proudly. "Let me be the mommy just once."  
  
She reluctantly handed over the doll. I made a great mommy.  
  
The teachers in my classes were usually confused as to whether I was male or female. Duo was a strange name for any child to have. It was androgynous to the extreme. Throughout kindergarten, all the way to 2nd grade, everyone called me a girl, except for Hilde, who knew what my body was really like.  
  
"My daddy says you're gonna be a fairy."  
  
We sat together outside on the playground, eating our lunches at the picnic tables. "He did?"  
  
"Yep!" She nodded and took a bite of her bologna sandwich. I ate from my plastic bag of potato chips. "He also said you were a faggot."  
  
"What's that mean?" I'd never heard the word before in my life, but I would become quite familiar with it in the coming years.  
  
Hilde looked thoughtful. "I think it's like a fairy, only bigger."  
  
"Aren't fairies really small? With pretty wings?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah, but some are bigger than those."  
  
A boy who was not in our class came up beside me, hands on his hips. He was bigger. I knew immediately that he was older. "Are you a boy or a girl?" He looked angry.  
  
I stared into my bag of potato chips. He pushed my shoulder roughly. "Hey, I asked you a question, dummy."  
  
I frowned and ate another chip. He gave up and walked away.  
  
Hilde stared at me sadly. "Why didn't you tell him you were a boy?"  
  
I crumpled up the empty bag in my tiny hand. "Because I'm not."  
  
The first time I tried on girls' clothes, I was nine. My mother had been folding laundry when she got a phone call. She went to her bedroom, leaving the basket of clothes sitting on the floor in the living room. I glanced up from watching "My Little Pony" and caught sight of the clothes inside of it. They were my mother's. There was a pair of underwear and a skirt sitting at the top. Without thinking, I grabbed them and ran to my room, holding them to my chest like a great treasure.  
  
Pulling off my knee-length shorts and my Batman underwear, I slipped my legs quickly into the panties and pulled them up. They were far too big and practically fell off of my hips unless I kept my legs closed. I could see the small bulge of my genitals in the mirror as I looked at myself. I opened my legs and tucked everything back between them. It was the happiest moment I'd ever experienced in my life as I pulled the skirt up around me and carefully buttoned and zipped. I tucked my shirt into the skirt and pulled at the back to make everything tighter.  
  
I felt so beautiful, and so very right.  
  
It was ruined when my mother came into my room, carrying the phone and asking if I wanted to talk to grandma. She dropped the phone in horror. It thunked heavily on the floor as she took a step back. "Jesus Christ, Duo! What the hell are you doing?"  
  
I released the skirt. It fell down around my ankles, showing her the low-riding panties. When she noticed them, she covered her eyes and turned from the room. I heard her sobbing in her bedroom. It continued until my father came home.  
  
That night, I got one of the worst beatings of my life. I was sent to a military school the next week. 


	2. Chapter 2

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Growing up Girl  
  
by Jake (formerly Marin2x1)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me. This story now has fanart. Check it out at my website.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The time I spent in military school was much like the famous opening line from Charles Dickens' 'A Tale of Two Cities.' "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." But, of course, it had nothing to do with a French revolution. It was my own revolution, in a way.  
  
One of the best things about military school was that I was away from my parents. Though every boy attending was asked to keep their hair cut in a conservative style, it wasn't a rule. I allowed mine to grow, and grow it did. Without my parents around to insist I get it cut, within a few weeks it was long enough that I could pull it back into a small ponytail. At first, I used cheap rubber bands stolen from my teacher's desk to hold it together. My parents sent me money usually every two weeks. We had expenses there, personal articles like combs and hair gel; the older boys had razors and shaving cream and aftershave for their faces. I used the money to buy myself the things I'd always wanted.  
  
One weekend out of the month, the students were taken out to Wal-Mart and allowed to shop for their necessary things. I always wandered over to the girl's clothing section. I started out small, with just a few hair ties, maybe a belt or even a girl's wallet, small enough to fit in my back pocket. I bought a "backpack" that looked surprisingly similar to a purse. As time went on, I got more and more bold. I bought a pair of girl's jeans. And a small t-shirt. And then a pair of shoes. A skirt. Pantyhose. Make-up.  
  
Of course, none of these items, save for the backpack, was ever seen by anyone other than my bunkmate. I had learned to be more cautious than that.  
  
So, those were the best of times. I began to grow a new sense of self and it bubbled furiously inside me, just waiting for the right moment, the moment when no one was around, to be released. I'd dress in my clothes on the weekends, when my bunkmate was out socializing. I'd put on the make-up and just stare at myself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, just loving myself.  
  
The worst of times, though; those really were the worst. I was teased constantly. Constantly. 'Faggot' and 'prissy boy' and 'pervert.' The names haunted me day in and day out as I tried to drag myself through my classes and through the rough workouts and the harsh teachers screaming in my face about discipline, and being a man. If only they knew just who they were talking to. I was not a man. I would never be a man. I would be a woman.  
  
I would always shower alone in the large communal showers, but sometimes the other boys would come in and rough me up. Sometimes my head was cracked against the wall until I saw sparks in my vision. And then one day, it was a Thursday night. Late. I was showering alone, using my personal strawberry-scented soap and strawberry-scented shampoo.  
  
A group of older boys came in. They stood at the doorway, leering at me with vicious smirks on their faces. I froze, shampoo bubbles still in my hair. I knew what was coming.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the faggot boy." They were older students. Fifteen and sixteen year olds. I was only ten. I knew I couldn't defend myself. I did the best I could to wash the shampoo. Funny, the only thing going through my mind was how much it would burn if I got soap in my eyes as I was getting beaten up. They stepped forward. The shower hissed angrily, the only sound in the room, save for their footsteps.  
  
I pressed my back against the wall, hands lowering to my groin to try and cover my nakedness. The last thing I wanted these boys to see was the organ I was so ashamed of having. One of them shoved my shoulder, grinding my bony back into the hard tiles. "Let's give this nancy boy a lesson on being a man." Another shove before I saw one of the boys draw back his fist.  
  
It connected squarely with my jaw and sent me spinning around. I wondered for a moment how I ended up facing the wall before I was pressed firmly against it. I tried my best to fight back. Really, I did. But I had no idea what I was doing. I believe that most males have a natural, intrinsic ability to fight. I didn't. I wasn't a boy.  
  
I was spun around again. A hand was raised, fingers spread. "You can't punch sissy boys. You have to bitch slap them to get the point across." And the hand came down on my face. The water made the sting ten times worse, and I actually cried out in pain and fell to the floor, more to protect myself by curling up in a ball than out of pain.  
  
"What are you jerks doing now?" I dared to lift my eyes from the tile floor.  
  
Another boy was standing in the doorway. He was not nearly their age; he was closer to my own, maybe a year older. I didn't recognize him from any of my classes. Surprisingly, the other boys backed up a bit. I hadn't expected that reaction to someone younger than they were.  
  
"We weren't doing nothing, Heero. Just messing with the faggot." He glared at me, and then glared at the others.  
  
"Well, leave him alone. It's past lights out."  
  
And like that, my tormentors were gone. Heero remained in the doorway, staring at me. I sat up and rubbed my cheek sadly. The shower still hissed at me. "You okay?"  
  
I nodded, not having the courage to glance up at him or even say thank you. When I did finally look up, he was gone.  
  
I spent the next few weeks trying to find out more about Heero. I wanted to find him on campus, at least, and tell him thank you. I had it all worked out in my head. I would shake his hand, as firmly and as confidently as I could. I would tell him that I was very grateful. And then I would walk away. Just like in a movie.  
  
I hadn't realized until then that I had no friends in the entire school. I had no acquaintances, either, save for my bunkmate. I'd never spoken to him before, but I had to ask someone, or I knew I would go insane. He was leaning intently over his homework, a frown of concentration present on his forehead, partially hidden by his shaggy blonde bangs. "Um... hey?"  
  
I really had no idea how to start a conversation. I'd never done it before. To add to it, I couldn't even remember his name. His head snapped up at my words, though, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Do you know who Heero is?"  
  
He gave me a strange look. "Heero? Why?"  
  
"He helped me out, and I want to find him to say thank you."  
  
There was a look of suspicion on his face. Of course he was suspicious. The school faggot was asking about a fellow male student. He gave in, though. Or so it seemed. Maybe he was just trying to remember who he was. "Is he the one with brown hair, kinda short, big blue eyes?"  
  
I ran through a list of the many students who had that same description, but nodded anyway. "He's maybe a little older than us."  
  
My bunkmate gave a nod. "That's probably Heero Yuy. I think he's twelve, but he was moved up to the older classes because he's so smart."  
  
I looked up at the ceiling in wonder. "What classes?"  
  
He shrugged helplessly. "Like I would know that. I'm not the genius. I think he's pretty popular, though, so you shouldn't have much trouble finding out from someone older."  
  
I nodded and gave him my thanks before laying down on my bed and curling up under the blankets.  
  
"My name's not 'Hey,' by the way. It's Quatre."  
  
"Thank you, Quatre."  
  
A week later, I saw Heero again. My physical education class was outside, running the track. It was a three mile race. I was on lap two and in the lead when I saw him. I slowed to a walk. He was out on the football field with some of the older boys. I squinted, trying to see him better. He had his shirt off. They were playing football. Was Heero on the team? I made a mental note to go to the next game. Heero was much smaller than the other boys, but that seemed to give him an advantage. I watched as a play began. Heero squeezed through a huge line of the others and ran and ran and ran before turning around. He caught the ball thrown at him with ease I'd never seen before. In a split second, he had made a touchdown. He was swarmed by his teammates. Apparently, they'd won. I didn't really know much about football.  
  
I didn't even give myself a moment to think about it. I darted away from the asphalt track and began running to him. By the time I got there, the others were making their way to the locker rooms to shower. Heero was sitting on a bench on the sidelines, drinking from a bottle of water.  
  
I stepped around in front of him, breathing heavily, and he looked up at me. His expression was unreadable. "Hey."  
  
I beamed. Maybe he remembered me, remembered saving me from a cruel beating. "Hi, Heero." He seemed surprised that I knew his name. I quickly continued, sticking out my hand. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me in the showers a few weeks ago." He reluctantly took my hand. I had wanted to give him a firm handshake, but found that my hand went rather limp in his. It was more like he was just holding it.  
  
"I'm very grateful."  
  
He released my hand and nodded, picking his shirt up off the ground and tossing it over his shoulder before he stood. I took a step back from him, not wanting to be too close. I didn't want him to be uncomfortable. Most people in the school treated me like some sort of easily spread virus.  
  
"What was all that about, anyway?" He didn't really seem to care about the reason. He drained the rest of his water and tossed the bottle into a nearby trashcan before starting his walk towards the locker room. I hesitantly followed.  
  
"Well, it's hard to explain. Everyone just thinks I'm a gay or something, so they beat me up a lot."  
  
He stopped walking and glanced back at me as I caught up to his side. He looked me up and down. It was like he was sizing me up. Studying me carefully.  
  
"How often does that happen?"  
  
I stared at the ground, embarrassed. "Enough."  
  
He thought for a moment. "Ya know, I'm not gonna be around all the time to help you out. You should learn to defend yourself."  
  
The very thought of it scared the hell out of me, brought a shiver to my spine and goose bumps to my skin. "I'm not a very good fighter."  
  
"Well, you're a guy. You're gonna have to learn sometime. It's the only way to make them stop."  
  
I felt ready to cry, but nodded anyway. I had hoped that Heero wouldn't see me as a boy. I thought that someone as intelligent as him must have known. Surely he must have known I was a girl trapped in an all-boy school.  
  
"How about we meet up on Saturday mornings from now on, and I'll help teach you?"  
  
I was overwhelmed. The mere thought the Heero Yuy, the best student in the school, and one of the most popular ones, wanted to help me, spend time with me, teach me; it was almost too much to handle. I nodded happily, hands coming together in front of me as I fought to keep from giggling in excitement. "I'm in room 23, G building. Stop by around 7."  
  
I nodded again and turned to go. We didn't even say goodbye. When I got back to the track, my class had gone back into the gym. I slinked into the locker room, averting my eyes from every naked or half-naked body around me. I grabbed my clothes and went to the single bathroom to change. The coach stopped me on my way there. I was in trouble. Detention for the rest of the week. Extra workouts after school. More discipline. I needed more discipline. And when was I going to cut that damn long hair? I looked like a sissy. 


	3. Chapter 3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Growing up Girl  
  
by Jake (formerly Marin2x1)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I remember our first Saturday together. I came to Heero's room dressed in the only clothes I owned, save for my uniform, that weren't meant for those with a female body: A pair of old, faded blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I wore a pair of worn-out Fila tennis shoes. They were only slightly too small for my feet. My toes were scrunched.  
  
When I got there, Heero opened his door and came out, immediately shooing me down the hall. I didn't get to see his room, like I'd hoped I would, but he seemed pretty eager to get started. We went to the weight room in the back of the gym. It was pretty empty, but there were a few of the football players there. I lowered my eyes, hoping they wouldn't notice me walking in with someone like Heero. The last thing I wanted was to cause him problems.  
  
We went to the punching bag. Heero went around the other side of it and held it steady. I stared at him blankly.  
  
"Well?" He widened his stance and held the bag a little tighter. I stared at the large, beat-up, vinyl bag in dismay. Was I supposed to hit it?  
  
"Well, what?"  
  
Heero sighed. "I wanna see how strong you are right now. Just give it a good punch."  
  
I'd never thrown a punch in my entire life. I'd never even thought of punching someone or something. The very thought of trying scared me. Girls didn't punch things, did they? Heero's intent stare was the only thing that made me draw back my fist over my shoulder and hurl it forward, straight into the bag. My wrist bent at an awkward angle. A few of my knuckles cracked and stung. The bag didn't seem to be effected, and neither did Heero.  
  
His stare was blank. "O... kay. You've never punched a thing in your life, have you?"  
  
I lowered my eyes again and shook my head, embarrassed. I felt very out of place, here. I felt ashamed to even be in the presence of such abundant masculinity, like I was invading the personal space of men. I knew I didn't belong. I wanted to leave. "Tell you what... we'll go outside and I'll teach you some really basic moves."  
  
I felt ready to cry. I didn't want to learn basic moves. I didn't even want to be here. For some reason, though, I felt it necessary to please Heero. We went outside.  
  
Heero knew karate. He had a brown belt. He showed me a few kicks, and how to make a real fist, and how I should aim at targets–aim at a place behind the actual target, so you can follow through. He told me to come at him, to attack him. I had no idea what I was doing, so I simply raised my fists and ran at him. Somehow, he put my face into the ground before I even realized what was happening. My arm was pulled up behind me as he pressed on my shoulder. "Eventually, you'll learn how to not let this happen."  
  
It was then that I realized just how weak I was. How could I ever expect to defend myself against anyone or anything if I was this weak? How could I ever expect to survive all of the horrible things that I knew were soon to come? I made a promise to myself to become stronger–just strong enough that I couldn't be pushed around so easily. And not just to make Heero proud, but to keep myself safe.  
  
I returned to my room sore and dirty. I had grass in my hair and grass stains on my jeans and my face was smudged with dirt. Quatre stared at me as I walked in, probably not expecting a sissy boy like me to ever have dirt on my face or clothes. I silently grabbed my pajamas and wandered into the showers. Another boy was inside. I immediately turned to go, but he must have noticed me. "Well, if it isn't Duo-fucking-Maxwell."  
  
My heart clenched in my chest. He recognized me. He knew me. I prepared to get beat up again. And by a nude man, no less.  
  
He couldn't have been much older than me. His voice wasn't that deep. But he towered over me in height. He came towards me. My body tensed in anticipation, but my eyes traveled away from him. I thought that maybe if I didn't see his fist coming at my face, it wouldn't hurt as much. I was surprised when he walked past me, grabbed his towel off the bench to wrap around his waist, and left the room. In fact, I was more than surprised. I was completely stunned, but exceedingly happy.  
  
The lessons with Heero continued for months, all the way up until summer break. School let out, and all of the students were sent home for a little over two months. There was no great welcome at home. My parents were disappointed in me and that would never change. I was only home because I couldn't stay in my room at the school while it was closed. My father gave me a silent nod as I walked through the living room, down the hall, to my own room. It was exactly as I had left it. I put my single bag on the floor and sat down to open it.  
  
It had been a long time since I'd seen Hilde. I knew what I wanted to do. The clothes I'd bought during school were taken out and laid on the bed–a black baby doll t-shirt and a pair of hip-hugging jeans. Black might not exactly be a feminine color, like pink, but I found out that it was my favorite, mainly because it was so slimming. Wearing a black t-shirt helped to hide the fact that my shoulders were a little too wide for a girl my age, and the fact that a girl my age should be getting breasts sometime soon.  
  
I was eleven. I knew puberty was not far off. I dreaded it with every ounce of my being.  
  
I took off my school uniform and stood in front of the full-length mirror. My body scared me. Where once there had been soft, pale skin that looked strikingly feminine, I now had soft, pale skin stretched over defined muscle. I nearly fainted, shocked at how masculine my young body had become in only four months time with Heero. I began to cry, hating myself.  
  
I still put on the clothes, though, and it made me feel a bit better. They hid my traitorous body from me. My shoes on, I tied up my hair, opened my window, and climbed out. I ran for three blocks until I came to Hilde's house. I hoped that she still slept in the same bedroom. She and her sister had a tendency to switch every now and then. I went around behind her house, crouched below her window, and tapped on the glass timidly.  
  
A boy who had to be at least fifteen opened the shade and pushed the window open, peering down at me. I stared at him, eyes wide. "Can I help you?"  
  
I gasped, mouth opening and closing. I was shocked. "I... is Hilde here?"  
  
I heard Hilde's voice behind him and nearly sighed in relief. "Who are you talking to, Mitch?"  
  
He glanced back. "Some girl. She's asking for you."  
  
I did not even bother to try and hide the outrageous smile on my face. "Some girl." I whispered it over and over again to myself in my head. It had always been "are you a boy or a girl" before. Now it was "some girl." Life could be so kind sometimes. Hilde came to the window and smiled at me. "Well, if it isn't Duo Maxwell."  
  
Mitch walked away from the window. I grinned up at Hilde. "Hey girl... you got some time to talk to me? I just escaped from military school for the summer."  
  
"Yeah, I was surprised when you got sent there. I didn't even know what had happened."  
  
"I would have called and told you, but we can't call anyone who's not family. Or at least, I can't." She nodded thoughtfully. I peered around her to try and get another glance at Mitch. "So who is he, anyway?"  
  
Hilde blushed. "My boyfriend."  
  
I was taken aback, but I didn't show it. He was much too old for her, I knew it. "He's... cute." I tried to act happy for her. In all honesty, I was a little jealous, because he was so cute. Because she had one, like any normal girl. And I didn't. I wasn't a normal girl, was I? I silently faced that fact. "Well... do you have time for me, or what?"  
  
Hilde nodded and retreated into her room. I waited outside. A minute or two later, Hilde was climbing out her window and dropping down to meet me. "I told him my old friend was back in town and to go home." She laughed and stood up to brush off her pants. I did the same.  
  
She finally noticed my attire and gasped. "Oh, Duo... why the hell are you wearing girls' clothes?" She seemed upset.  
  
I tried to shrug, act like it was no big deal. "It just feels more comfortable." How could I be honest with her? How could I tell her that there was something wrong with me, something not clicking right between my body and my mind? A normal person could never understand, could they? I didn't even know if there was anyone else like me. I didn't know if I was just crazy. I tried not to think about that. Every time I did, I felt incredibly alone.  
  
"I saw something on tv about boys like you." My eyes widened. I wanted to know more. I couldn't contain my anticipation. "They said you were perverts who dressed like girls for sexual stuff."  
  
My excitement deflated like a popped balloon. That most definitely was not me. That did not describe me. But it did sound similar, and if there were people similar to me, maybe I wasn't the only one like me. "I don't think that has anything to do with me, Hild. I just do it because it feels natural. She seemed to accept that. We walked.  
  
Hilde and I wandered around the neighborhood. We ran over to the railroad tracks and put pennies on the rails. We crossed over them, to the overgrown field of weeds taller than we were. We lost and found each other over and over again before collapsing together in a heap. I stared up at the sky and imagined I could reach up and touch it; grab the clouds and pull them down there with me.  
  
"What're you gonna be when you grow up, Hild?"  
  
She seemed to think a minute. I glanced over at her and she was smiling. "I wanna get married and have kids. But most, I think I wanna be a teacher." Hilde loved school. She loved her teachers. I could understand why she had such dreams. "What about you?"  
  
"I'm gonna be a girl someday... and I'm gonna get married too. But I don't know what else." Hilde stared at me strangely, but nodded all the same. I don't think she was old enough yet, nor was I, to truly understand the implications of what I was saying. Neither of us knew yet what was causing me to say these things.  
  
All I knew then was that I wished the summer would never end, and that every day I could spend it with Hilde like this. She was my best friend. She was my only real friend. 


	4. Chapter 4

~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Growing up Girl  
  
by Jake (formerly Marin2x1)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
IMPORTANT!: The next chapter will cause this story to be moved to a higher rating. From now on, if you want to read it, either add it to your favorites, or select the "R" category at the top.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Summer eventually ended, and I returned to school. I stopped seeing Heero for our lessons, afraid of what it might do to my body. I avoided him in the halls when we saw each other. He always let his eyes follow me, a strange look in them. I didn't dare look directly at those eyes for fear of what I might see. Would there be anger? Disappointment? Just plain curiosity as to why I hadn't said a word to him since our return to school? That was asking too much.  
  
He finally confronted me on a Saturday. Quatre was out of the room. I was wearing girls' clothes and make-up again, just staring at myself in the mirror. A fist pounded on the door–not angry, just insistent. I had no idea who it was, and told them to wait as I hurriedly tried to change my clothes and wipe off the make-up. I learned that mascara is nearly impossible to remove when you're in a rush.  
  
The problem with that school was that there were no locks on the doors. If it weren't for that, it would have never happened. Heero spoke to me through the door. "I don't care if you're naked or what. It's not like I've never seen it before. I gotta talk to you."  
  
Once again, I told him to just give me a minute and slid the pants off. That's when the door opened. I immediately burst into tears, knowing I'd been caught. I didn't even have to look at him. "God, Duo... what're you doing?" I sobbed and continued to pull the pants off of my legs. Then I slumped heavily on the floor and curled my knees up to my chest, staring at the floor. I couldn't hide the panties or the smeared make-up or the girly shirt I was still wearing.  
  
I knew he hadn't really wanted to know the answer to his question; he already knew. But I tried to explain myself anyway. "You could never understand what it's like for me. It's like something's wrong and this is the only way to make it right." I tried to keep my voice steady in between sobs. I still couldn't look at him. I was ashamed. I'd learned long ago to be ashamed.  
  
"So that's why you haven't spoken to me? Because you really are like everyone says?"  
  
I didn't know what he meant. I nodded. It was a long time before he spoke. When he did, I expected anger, and curled in on myself. "I was raised to be pretty accepting of people, no matter what, but this is just weird." And then he left the room. I knew that, had it been someone else, I would have gotten a harsh beating. I had been lucky. But this had to stop, and I knew it.  
  
I didn't indulge myself in such habits for months. Over the summer, when I went home, only when I was locked in my room did I wear the clothes I loved so much. It had been such a long time, that they were getting small on me.  
  
I was twelve. Puberty had arrived. I noticed it the first morning, that something was different. It was a habit of mine, to check my genitals as soon as I woke up, and hope they were gone, replaced by wonderful female parts. It was a childish dream that I refused to let go of as I got older. But something was different that morning. Things seemed slightly bigger. Hair was beginning to appear. I nearly screamed in dismay and fear. I checked my entire body for more betrayal. There was some on my stomach, some dark hairs. They were under my arms. I don't know if I just hadn't noticed it before, or if it really did just happen overnight. The hair on my legs was getting thicker and darker, I thought.  
  
Scared out of my mind, I jumped into the shower and picked up my mother's razor. A pink plastic lady Bic. I didn't know how to shave, I just knew people did it. Without using shaving cream or even soap, I scraped it along the skin of my legs, under my arms, the small amount that appeared on my stomach–girls didn't have that, did they? I didn't want to shave my face. My father shaved his face. That was something that men did. Besides, nothing had appeared there, yet.  
  
The idea of that happening made me shiver. I knew I didn't want to shave it, but if I didn't, would I grow a beard? I felt light-headed and scared. It was at this point that I realized something had to be done. I knew I couldn't live in constant fear of what was happening with my body and my mind.  
  
I had taken science classes and health classes at school. They were required. I knew why boys changed into men and girls changed into women. It all came back to one thing: hormones. Estrogen would give me the results I wanted, wouldn't it?  
  
There was a women's health clinic in town. Without making an appointment, I dressed up like a girl and went up there, my first time leaving the house as a girl in a year. I told the receptionist I needed to go on birth control. Didn't that contain estrogen? I thought it did. She looked me up and down. I knew I was going to have some trouble doing this.  
  
It took a while, and I had to convince them that I was a girl, but I just wasn't ready to have a pap smear, I was too embarrassed and too young. In the end, I left the office with three months' worth of birth control, for free. I started to take them every day. I had no idea what it would do to my body, or what it wouldn't do. All I had right then was hope.  
  
Puberty continued, despite the estrogen. Male puberty. I went back to school. I'd made sure to get more birth control before leaving, but the limit that they could provide me with was three months' worth. It ran out. I cried on the day of the last pill. Broke down into sobs and curled up underneath the desk in my room. For six months, I'd had nothing but hope. That hope was gone with the last pill, and the only thing I had accomplished was a bit of breast growth. I didn't know, back then, that it could have been caused by the male puberty I was experiencing. It happens to some men, gynecomastia.  
  
The loss I'd experienced with my last pill soon turned to desperation. I had been saving up the money my parents sent me, even though they sent it to me less and less these days. I had 350 dollars. Surely I could do something with that. The question was what could I do? Our school had computers and the internet. Back then, it was still relatively new. There weren't websites on every subject you could imagine, but I went online and found a very basic webpage. They sold hormones. Without a prescription. I took this as a sign that something was going right in my life. I'd been raised slightly Catholic (a Catholic who never really went to church, but still knew the basic rules), so I took this as a sign from God. On the web site, I read about antiandrogens. This was a new concept. They were said to stop testosterone production. I was giddy with excitement. In the end, I ordered as much of the estrogen and antiandrogens as I could afford–six months' supply. It arrived a week later. I pulled the bottles out of the box and lovingly held them. For thirty minutes, I just held them and cried in joy. This would really work. I knew it. This would make things right.  
  
I took them that night. In the morning, everything was the same. It was very anti-climactic.  
  
Eventually, I noticed things beginning to change. My arms and legs, which had been steadily growing more muscular, simply stopped. They slowly began to shrink back down. My hips widened. My nipples became painful and then began to grow. It got to the point that I would walk around with my arms crossed over my chest during school, hoping that no one would notice. I began to layer up my clothes. Three shirts a day to hide myself and the body that was so perfect for me. My penis shrank. I was happy with this.  
  
I took showers only very late at night. I would set my alarm for 1am to wake up and sneak in there. I was even more afraid of being caught naked, now. I knew that, though this body was right for me, it was wrong for a boy. If I was caught, if the other boys noticed growing breasts, that would be the end of me.  
  
I couldn't hide any more, after five months. My breasts were steadily growing. Shirts no longer hid them, no matter how many I wore.  
  
I went to my classes in fear. In the hall, Heero noticed me once again. I was incredibly surprised that word of me hadn't gotten around. I fully expected him to tell all of his friends. I was grateful to him for that, but I shied away from his eyes, trying to walk past as quickly as I could. He caught up with me. "Duo, what's wrong with you?"  
  
What a vague question. There were so many answers, and they were all sitting right in front of him, ready for the taking. What was wrong with me? Even I didn't know, really. "What do you mean?" My voice had never reached the point of dropping. Thirteen years old, and it was still high-pitched and not cracking.  
  
"You look different... like a girl, or something." I looked away, tightening my arms over my chest. He squinted at me. He had noticed the uncomfortable shift. "What are you hiding?" He pulled at my arms.  
  
I panicked and jerked away in fear. That had been a bad decision. Right in the middle of the hall, my arms were pulled away from my chest, leaving me exposed. I couldn't hide the soft lumps under my clothes. Everyone who had been standing around turned to stare at me as Heero screamed, "what the hell?!" and I shrieked in return.  
  
His hands went limp. I pulled away from him and covered my chest again. But people had seen. They had all seen. A few people started laughing. "He's a damn girl!" someone screamed. I backed up against the wall in fear. A few of the boys came over and began grabbing at me. They painfully latched onto my chest, squeezing the sensitive mounds, hard. Roaming hands went down to my groin, felt that I had "tucked." They didn't feel the telltale sign of maleness, and that meant that, to them, I didn't have a male body. A rough hand grabbed the front of my shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew everywhere. I screamed. Everyone laughed. "We should have known you were a girl, with that long hair." More hands grabbed at me. My shirts were ripped. People were pulling at my pants. I was surprised they hadn't been ripped off, too.  
  
A teacher was the only thing to save me. He stepped out in the hall and yelled at everyone to get to class. They scattered. I fell against the wall again, incredibly ashamed and frightened. I could only thank the fact that we had been in a public place. What would have happened in private? Would I even still be alive?  
  
Heero was still there. He stared at me. It was a few minutes before I noticed him and dared to look up. His face was blank. I slowly stood up, knowing that I had to get out of there. I'd lived in safety from the real world for a long time. But this wasn't even real safety, was it? Now it was even more dangerous, because people knew. My backpack fell to the floor. I didn't bother to close my shirt or cover my obvious chest. I simply walked away, to my room. Heero didn't say a word.  
  
I packed up my things and walked off campus, having no idea where I would go. I had eighty-six dollars, a two months' supply of hormones, and a few clothes. I came to a gas station and called home. My mother answered. I told her what had happened. Sorta. "I was kicked out, mom."  
  
She sighed. Then she got angry. I should damn well know better. Why did I have to be so weird? Why couldn't I just get my act together? They had put me in that school so that I could learn to be a man. It was two hours before she came to pick me up. By then, I'd had the sense of mind to close up my shirt. I kept my arms crossed over my chest. I immediately went and took a long bath. I stared at my body under the water, wondering what was going to happen to me. I was back home. My parents had no reason to send me money anymore. How would I afford the hormones I needed so badly?  
  
Maybe it was time to tell them.  
  
I spent the day locked in my room. When my father came home, I went out in the living room, asking my mother to come with me. I sat down. They stared at me. "We need to talk."  
  
My father muted the tv, but still seemed interested in the show.  
  
I'd worked this all through in my mind, how I would tell them. Now, sitting in front of them, my mind had gone blank. I tried to remember how I'd started off in my imagination. "My whole life... I knew there was something wrong with me."  
  
My father broke in. "Well I coulda told you that."  
  
I ignored him. "It's probably not something that you'll understand. At least, not yet. I hope that one day you will, though. I'm really scared and really alone and I just want your help in this."  
  
My mother sat quietly, giving me a blank stare. My father was getting impatient. "What the hell is it, Duo?"  
  
I took a deep breath. "I'm... not a boy. I'm a girl in a boy's body."  
  
My father glared. My mother looked shocked.  
  
"I've been taking hormones to try and make it right. But now that I'm not at school, I have no way to afford it. I'm going to need your help."  
  
They left the room. I don't remember if my father left first, my mother simply following, or if they were both just too disgusted with me. I sat staring at the floor for a long time, tears running down my face. It wasn't crying, so much as releasing emotions through my eyes. I was overwhelmed and overflowing.  
  
At eleven o'clock, my father came out of the bedroom. I looked up at him hopefully as he approached. He didn't look angry. Hovering over me, he reached into his pocket and took out a wad of money. He tossed it on the coffee table. I stared at it, confused. "I never wanted a son to begin with. And I certainly didn't want a faggot for a son. Pack your stuff and get the hell out of my house. Tonight."  
  
I cried, then.  
  
With only a backpack filled with some clothes and the wad of money my father had given me, I left the house. I didn't know where to go. I went to Hilde's and tapped on her window. She welcomed me into her room and into her arms and we fell asleep in her bed, together, her arms wrapped around me as I cried and soaked her shirt. "It's okay, Duo. It's gonna be okay."  
  
She didn't know. She was trying to reassure me, but the more she said that, the more I had to think: would it really be okay? 


	5. Chapter 5

~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Growing up Girl  
  
by Jake (formerly Marin2x1)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I could only stay with Hilde for a few days. It was hard, on Friday, to hide from her mother when she came in to wake her up for school. I didn't leave her room all day, afraid that one of her parents would come home early from work and find me in their house. Through the weekend, though, I was welcomed. Hilde asked them if I could spend the weekend there, and they said yes. Friday night, I was able to eat dinner with them. I was starved. I still had to hide my chest from them, too.  
  
After dinner, I lay down on Hilde's bed, flipping through one of her magazines. She went into her closet and started trying on clothes. I gave her my opinion. She appreciated it, said I really had the mind of a girl.  
  
She took a bra out of her dresser and handed it to me. I stared at it before reaching out and taking it. "What's this for?"  
  
"You've got boobs now. You can't just walk around without one." She was more understanding than I ever knew a person could be. I took off my shirt right in front of her, no longer ashamed of my body, at least not the top half, like I had been. I put the bra on. It was slightly uncomfortable, but I knew I would get used to it. I looked at myself in the mirror across the room. I looked happy, superficially happy. But scared.  
  
Hilde saw my happiness and sighed, sitting down on the floor in front of me. "I guess it's true, then. I always thought you were just weird, but you really are a girl."  
  
I nodded. That was the only way to explain it. But I wondered: am I really a girl? For the first time in my life, I questioned it. That alone was enough to confuse me, but the questions I came up with were far worse. Will I ever be a girl? I wasn't born a real girl. I'll never be a real girl. I can try my best to become as much of a girl as possible, but I'll never really get there, will I? I'll be... genderless. My mind will be what it is now, but my body... will always be different.  
  
Sunday night, I left her house. Hilde's parents told me it was time for me to go home. I was scared. I didn't know what home was, anymore. I had some money, though. I knew I had to conserve it. I went to a 24 hour movie theatre and watched a stupid movie, not really paying attention. I continued to sit through it three times, in a daze. By 1am, I fell asleep.  
  
Monday morning, I was still in a daze. My backpack hanging limply, I went and ate breakfast. "You look like hell, kid," the waitress told me. I nodded, agreeing with her. I felt dirty from sleeping in a disgusting old movie theatre seat all night. I wondered how I would get a much-needed bath. I wanted to go home. I wanted so bad to go home. For the first time in days, I allowed myself to cry. The impending doom that my life had become rushed in on me, blocking out everything. I got tears all over my scrambled eggs and ate them anyway. I knew I couldn't waste them. I'd paid money for them. Afterwards, I went in the bathroom–the girls' bathroom–and washed up a bit.  
  
Afterwards, I had nowhere to go. I simply wandered. By nightfall, I was still directionless. I sat on a covered bus stop bench and stared blankly ahead. Looking back on it now, I must have known it was dangerous. That was probably the only thing that caused me to haul my tired body to my feet and continue walking. I came to a homeless shelter. I stood outside, staring at the entrance. This really was my only choice, wasn't it? I was homeless now.  
  
I reluctantly went inside. There were a lot of people milling about, most of them men with graying beards in beat-up clothes. They scared me. People came up to me and talked to me. Where were my parents? Why was I out so late, all by myself? I was given a blanket and a cot, the place I would sleep for a large portion of my adolescence. I gave them my phone number. They said they would call my parents. I never heard a word about that again. Either my parents told them they didn't have a child, or they told them they didn't want their child. Either way, I was on my own.  
  
Every day, I continued to take my pills. I'd wash them down with orange juice in the morning and water at night. My supply was dwindling. I knew I had to find a place that had the internet so that I could order more. I immediately thought of the library. I had them mailed to Hilde's house, and then called her and told her to expect a package for me. I'd be back there in two weeks to pick it up.  
  
That day, I browsed through the shelves for hours. I was searching for a particular story, one that would speak to me and explain what I was going through. No matter how much I searched, I couldn't find anything. There was not a single book that contained what I was: a genderless character. Everyone, both fictional and nonfictional, they were all either male or female. I browsed through books of poetry and plays. At least the poetry could give me something. Gender wasn't often mentioned in poetry. "He" and "she" were terms that I rarely saw. A lot of the poems talked about being different, and life's difficulties. I could relate to these a bit better.  
  
Time went on. I turned fourteen. My growth had been stunted by the hormones, but my breasts had gotten larger. I was decidedly female-looking. The men at the shelter leered at me, now. Men on the street were starting to notice and whistle at me. Men followed me around at night, asking if I'd sleep with them. They offered me money. I had three dollars to my name.  
  
The next night, when my money was gone, I put on my too-tight jeans and my too-small shirt and I went on the street. Experience lead me to the 'bad part of town.' A place with all-night bars and strip clubs. There were prostitutes everywhere and people selling drugs. I had no idea what to do. I went up to one of the prostitutes and stared at her, ashamed. "What're you doing out so late, all by yourself, honey?" She was smoking a cigarette and looking sexy, but much too thin. Is that what this life would do to you?  
  
"I don't have any family," I told her. "Or money. I need to make some money."  
  
She nodded in understanding. Told me her name was Linda. Took me under her wing.  
  
I became a prostitute. Shame overwhelmed me, and I hadn't even really done anything yet. It was the next night that I was given my first job. Sort of. Linda's pimp said that he had to try me out first. I was scared and shaking when I went into his room. It smelled of drugs and urine. He told me to take off my shirt and I did. He nodded in approval and told me to take off my pants. I did. I left my panties on, wanting to explain to him, but unable to find the words.  
  
He got angry with me for not doing as I was told and came over to me. He ripped my panties off and I tried to cover myself. He saw. He wasn't angry anymore. He nodded in understanding. "You should have said that before."  
  
I was confused and afraid and ashamed, standing naked in front of him. "You'll just give blows, I guess. Unless you come across a guy who likes your type." I didn't understand. I didn't even know what a blow was. I had absolutely no experience.  
  
Josh, the pimp, taught the basics of how to go about doing it. I cried and gagged and tried not to vomit all over him. I would feel the bile rising in my throat and pull away from him, afraid. He'd push my head back down.  
  
After a while of going through such sickening motions, his body tensed and a hot liquid filled my mouth and went down my throat without my knowing it. As soon as it hit my stomach, I pulled away and threw up all over the floor. Josh laughed at me and tossed a twenty dollar bill into the pile of vomit on the floor as I continued to heave.  
  
He told me to get to work and left the room.  
  
I returned to the streets and found Linda. My eyes were red with shame and crying. She hugged me in understanding and tried not to blow the smoke of her cigarette into my face. I buried myself in her chest. She wore cheap perfume and a silk shirt.  
  
That night, I made eighty dollars even. I vomited three times. I got hit twice.  
  
I returned to the shelter that morning, curled up on my cot, and fell asleep, disgusted with myself. That night, I went back to work, though. I was not so ashamed that I would stop doing it, stop being able to afford life itself. I had lived with moderate shame my entire life, at the simple fact that I was who I was. What was a bit more shame piled on top of it?  
  
I made one-hundred dollars. I vomited only twice, and I didn't get hit. I was learning the ways of the streets, slowly but surely. Linda helped me a lot. She even bought me drinks after work. I had my first taste of alcohol with her. I liked it. The slow burn as it slid down my throat and spread to my limbs numbed me completely, so that I could stop hating myself, if only for a moment.  
  
I fell into a sort of pattern. I would sleep when the sun came up, wake up and eat dinner, and then go work the streets all night. Linda offered me a cigarette, and I took it. I coughed a few times, but as it burned between my fingers, I felt myself relaxing. I understood, then, why the girls did what they did: the drugs, the alcohol, the smoking. They were all ways to stop hating yourself completely, if only for a moment, if only for the time that the line of cocaine was taken into your body or the bottle did its work in your veins or the small cigarette burned between your fingers. They were all means to keep you sane.  
  
I wonder how I survived that time. It wasn't easy. At fifteen, I got a real job. I was legally able to work now. I found honest work at a fast food restaurant as a cashier. Boys who came through flirted with me. I shied away from them. I'd seen enough of the male body, I'd tasted enough of it. I never wanted to do that again.  
  
I was making five dollars an hour. The wages were meager. Sometimes, I yearned to go back on the streets, simply because I could make so much money so quickly. Then a boy would whistle at me or stare at my chest. That always changed my mind.  
  
My hair was long. It was down to my mid back. I'd look around at some of the other girls I worked with and think to myself, "I'm the most feminine person in the room." That made me angry. These bio-girls, as I called them, accepted their gender so easily. They were so naturally female. I was jealous. I had to take two pills, two times a day, just to make myself seem female. What I wouldn't have given to be born a girl.  
  
I would lie on my cot at night and cry, sometimes. I was very lonely, and still very afraid. No matter how far into my life time lead me, I knew I would always be afraid. And I would often look back with regret, wondering, 'if I had just kept quiet, would I still be at home, safe?'  
  
One night, I was awakened by a hand on my shoulder. One of the homeless men, Steve, I think, was his name, was shaking my shoulder, telling me to follow him. In the daze of sleep, I had no time to question him or think to myself how stupid it would be for me to do that. He lead me into the mens' bathroom. It smelled strongly of urine, only one fluorescent light was working, and it flickered ominously on and off. I felt uncomfortable being in the mens' bathroom. Steve pushed the door closed behind me as I rubbed at my eyes. I knew Steve pretty well. He was a harmless drunk. But when I turned to look at him, I felt afraid. I tried to cover it up. "What is it, Steve? I've got work in the morning."  
  
He came closer to me and grabbed my chest. I froze in fear. "You remind me a lot of my daughter. Did I ever tell you that?" His breath smelled like whiskey.  
  
I slipped away from him and headed for the door. He blocked it and grabbed me around the waist and threw me to the floor. I screamed as he climbed on top of me and ripped off my shirt. He squeezed my chest painfully. I screamed again and he punched me across the face. In my mind, I was back on the streets again. I knew that when the hitting started, it was time to keep your mouth shut and do as you were told. Linda had taught me that. You can only push people so far.  
  
Steve seemed happy that I had quieted down. I stared at the ceiling, the light flickering rapidly. My mind left my body. I ignored what was happening. My pants were pulled down, followed by my underwear. Steve nearly climbed off of me. "What... what the hell are you?"  
  
I laughed bitterly, not even bothering to use this moment to pull away from him. My pants were pulled off and tossed aside. He flipped me over on my back and pulled me up on my knees. There was no explanation offered. I knew what was going to happen, anyway. I'd avoided it on the streets for so long because there never had been a guy who "liked my type." I was unwanted, even by the johns.  
  
Something hard was shoved inside me, burning all the way up to my belly and making me choke on a scream. Something inside me was ripping. Blood dripped down my inner thighs. I think I passed out. Either that, or my mind left my body again. The next thing I remember was Steve pulling his pants up and walking out of the room. It was a long time before I wandered over to the sink and washed off the blood and gooey liquid on my legs. I put my clothes back on. My pants were okay, but my shirt was ripped beyond repair.  
  
I left the bathroom in shame, returned to my cot, and fell back asleep. I must have cried that night, because my pillow was wet when I woke up. My pants were stained with blood. I didn't go to work. Didn't call in, not that I had a means of calling. I knew I had lost my job.  
  
That night, I went back on the streets. I fell back into my pattern. Linda welcomed me back. Josh said he knew I'd be back. That's why he'd let me go in the first place. Every six months, I'd get another supply of hormones and travel over to Hilde's house to pick them up. She was sad each time she saw me. She wished there was something she could do for me. I looked terrible.  
  
Linda eventually got her own place. She invited me to stay with her. I could not have been more happy. For the first time in over a year, I was able to take a bath. I fell asleep in the tub, a lot of nights.  
  
I was sixteen. I got another job. Sometimes we struggled to pay the rent. She had her drugs and alcohol and I had my hormones. The money spent between us made it difficult to keep up with the necessities. We made the dingy apartment into a home. I made curtains for the windows and sheets for our beds. I bought some heavy-duty cleaner and scrubbed the mildew and grime out of the bathroom. Linda bought a microwave so that we could have warm meals without having to go out.  
  
I worked as a cashier at a supermarket. The days were long and boring, but I got an employee discount on everything I bought, which came in handy. It was a Saturday afternoon, mid-summer, when I saw him. He came into the store wearing sandals, a tank shirt, and a pair of swimming trunks. He had on sunglasses. He was tan. He had brown hair. I knew I was in love.  
  
I felt like the character Sammy in John Updike's story "A&P," sitting there waiting to see which aisle he'd come out of–like a pinball machine. I was happy to see him approach me, put his things on the belt. I rang him up. He took off his sunglasses. He had blue eyes. For some reason, I remembered Heero.  
  
He looked at my name tag. "Duo. That's a nice name." I smiled. "You got a boyfriend?" I shook my head, looking away from him. I felt very, very shy all of a sudden. I couldn't explain why.  
  
"You're very pretty." I knew I was blushing. He paid me and left the store.  
  
A week later, I saw him again. He flirted with me some more. I found out his name was Kyle from the check he'd written. I fell into another pattern. Every Saturday afternoon, I'd wait for him to show up. He'd always be wearing casual clothes, looking like he just stepped off the beach. Maybe he had a pool, but he never smelled of chlorine.  
  
On the fifth Saturday, he asked me out to dinner and a movie. I accepted, albeit hesitantly. He said he'd pick me up at 8. I gave him my address. After I got off work, I remembered that I had absolutely no clothes to wear on a date. I broke into my savings, which I'd set up to pay for hormones every six months, and went shopping. I bought a black top and a black skirt and black shoes. I wore my hair down that night, hoping it would curl just right. Linda helped me put on my make-up before she had to go to work.  
  
He arrived five minutes late and apologized for making me wait. His car was a beat-up old Chevrolet Camaro. I fell in love with it. He opened my door for me, like a gentleman. He pulled my chair out for me at the restaurant, like a gentleman. He put his arm around me, but didn't feel me up, in the theatre. Like a gentleman. He walked me to my door, like a gentleman.  
  
When I turned to take out my key, he grabbed ran his hand along my back and grabbed my ass. I tensed before turning around. His face had changed. He was leaning against the door frame, hovering over me, leering at me. I had a flashback to Steve and shivered, cowering in on myself.  
  
"I get a goodnight kiss, right?"  
  
Sirens went off in my head. I didn't know why. Maybe there was something about the way he'd said it. Against my better judgement, I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. He grabbed hold of me and forced his tongue into my mouth. His hand grabbed my breast. I pushed against him, making muffled sounds of protest.  
  
Eventually, he pulled away, glaring at me. I tried not to look scared. "I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm just tired tonight."  
  
He was angry. "I spent a lot of money at that damn restaurant. I'd better get something in return, dammit."  
  
I laughed playfully, giggled really, and put my hand on his chest. But it was all an act. Behind me, my hand was fiddling with the door, slipping the key into the lock. "I just gave you a kiss, Kyle. What more do you want?"  
  
He took a step back, hesitated, and then came at me again, more angry than before. I slipped through the door, closed it quickly, and locked him out. He pounded furiously on the old, splintering wood. "Fucking cock-tease!"  
  
I heard his footsteps retreating down the hall and allowed myself to relax. I knew I'd dodged a bullet. I needed to be more careful. But there was a wall being built inside me, steadily. I was closing myself off from people, hardening up. Men scared me, now. They wielded power over me, unimaginable power. If a man who wasn't a harmless drunk like Steve decided to take advantage of me again, what would happen? What would have happened if I hadn't been faster than Kyle and gotten through the door? I lay down in my bed, wondering if real girls went through what I've been through, too.  
  
I never saw Kyle at the store again. I was thankful of that. 


	6. Chapter 6

~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Growing up Girl   
by Jake (formerly Marin2x1)   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometime in my life, I became fake. I can't remember how it happened, or even when. It's harder to remember a time when I wasn't fake. I began to smile all the time, even though I was breaking down inside, hating myself, hating what I had done and what I had become, hating everyone in the world. Linda was kind to me. I had no reason to hate her. Yet still I did. 

She would come home early, while the sun was rising, while I was getting ready to go to work. She was always exhausted and weary. I would smile at her and sometimes cook breakfast, dinner for her, before leaving. After work, I would come home just as exhausted and weary, though for different reasons, and she would cook me dinner, breakfast for her, before leaving for work. That was my new pattern. I always seemed to find a pattern. 

At work, I smiled blankly at the customers. I was kind when they exploded at me about the outrageous prices or the fact that their coupons were out of date. They wore diamond earrings and diamond rings and expensive gold watches. The ketchup was too expensive for them. I wore plastic clip-on earrings and a fake silver ring I'd gotten out of a twenty-five cent machine and no watch. I never complained about prices of ketchup. My smile was so fake. So very fake. 

Inside, I felt like a time bomb. Like I was just waiting for someone to shake me around enough that I would finally explode. 

I was seventeen. Linda took me to a bar for my birthday. They didn't check ID's. I wondered why I hadn't known about this place before. I could have gone every night and drowned myself in alcohol, something that appealed to me very much, at the time. 

The bar was crowded and smoky and noisy. There was a jukebox sitting in a corner, playing 70's rock music. I fell in love with Eric Clapton. Linda and I drank tequila shots with whiskey chasers. When the hard stuff had taken full effect, we moved on to strawberry daquiris and sipped them the rest of the night. I was introduced to other 'working girls,' friends of Linda. I met Ginger and was shocked. Ginger was taller than most women, with broad shoulders and thin hips. Her face was defined, but with a softness about it. I learned that 'Ginger' was actually a man in woman's clothing. A drag queen, she was called. We sat in the back of the room and she talked for hours, about life, about herself, about how hard it was. She told me that one day, she would like to stop being a drag queen and be a woman. 

For the first time in my life since my parents, I willingly confided in someone. I told Ginger my secret. "Oh, honey," she said softly, her dark red fingernails tracing along the condensation on her glass of scotch on the rocks. "I guess your name has a meaning then, doesn't it?" I didn't understand her implications, and it must have showed on my face. "Duo. It means two, ya know? Like you're two different people. You've got the mind of a girl and the body of a boy, you see?" I nodded. I'd never realized it before. I'd never liked my name before that time. I'd thought it was a weird name. 

I began going to the bar every Friday and Saturday night. The people there slowly came to know me very well. Most of them eventually knew about my secret, and I had no problems, really, with talking about it. I felt comfortable talking to them. But I felt most comfortable talking to Ginger. We were like kindred spirits. "One thing that interests me about myself," I said one night as I nursed another strawberry daiquiri, "I never lie." Ginger gave me a strange look. She was already high, preparing herself for work. She worked the streets, just like I had. "It's true. I mean, I won't just outright lie. But insides, I'm nothing but one big lie. My whole life is a lie. I can't even have a relationship, for fear that someone will find out. I'll be alone forever." 

Ginger shook her head. "No, honey. One day, you'll find a nice man who understands you. I'd just want to get the surgery done, first." 

I gave her a curious look, interested. What surgery was she talking about? "Surgery?" 

"You know..." She looked down at her crotch and back up to me. 

My eyes widened. "They can do that? I mean, they can get rid of it and make it... what? Does it look right?" 

Ginger laughed. It was a small, feminine laugh that, despite myself, seemed out of place to me, coming from such a large woman. "Oh, honey, they can do pretty much anything, these days. Boys can become girls, girls can become boys... it's all a matter of finding the right doctor and having the right amount of money." 

I made a mental note to start saving money right away. I had a goal in life, now. A dream that I knew I must fulfill. 

A week later, I took on a second job at a convenience store. I worked graveyard shift and was usually quite afraid. Robberies weren't exactly unusual. I would come into work after my days off and find out, sometimes, that we had been robbed over the weekend. Every time it happened, I thanked God and the stars above that I hadn't been there. I was lucky enough that it never did happen to me, but there was always that constant fear, nagging at the back of my neck, making me tense and shaky. 

I was eighteen when the bar closed down. The cops had finally raided it for serving minors. I never saw Ginger, after that night. I later heard that she had been found dead in an alley, stabbed repeatedly. It was harder to drag myself out of bed in the mornings, after that. But one day I realized that Ginger had never attained her dream, our dream. I would accomplish it, no matter what. I had to. 

Linda made sure to keep the fridge stocked with alcohol. It wasn't so much the alcohol that I needed, really, so much as the people. I needed those who would talk to me and understand me. I was alone again. I began to hate the world again. I cried a lot. 

It was three weeks before my nineteenth birthday when I got a nagging cough that wouldn't go away. Linda finally convinced me to see a doctor. I was reluctant, but Linda told me about one she knew. She was understanding, Linda had told me. She worked with a lot of the working girls, stitching up small wounds and not reporting anything to the police. Her office was small and inconspicuous. 

She gave me simple antibiotics for the cough. While I was in there, I nervously asked her about estrogen. Linda trusted this doctor, and I felt that I could, too. I told her my story. She nodded in understanding, and did some blood tests. Three days later, I got a call from her. I went to her office for the news. It turned out that my liver was steadily being damaged from the pills I'd been taking for so many years. She asked where I had gotten them, and how high of a dosage they were. She told me my dose was too high and simply wrote me a prescription for a lower dose, no questions asked. 

I left the office in shock. 

I began to take my pills in a safer manner, and that simple fact made me feel better about myself. Healthier in a way, both mentally and physically. The price was a bit higher, of course, because it was coming from a real pharmacy. I still had two jobs, so I didn't have trouble affording them, but saving money now was a slow process. 

Slowly, the need to get the surgery almost faded. I realized that having it was simply something to complete the process of becoming who I was supposed to be. It was something that was going to happen 'somewhere down the road.' I had no idea when. I realized I had to focus on the present. 

I was nineteen. Walking home from work in the early light of dawn, I caught site of the flyer stapled to the wooden lamppost. Four rainbow letters stood out against white paper: GLBT. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender. I stared at it for a long moment before realizing. Remembering, maybe. Who knows? 

Something caught in my throat. Things came together in my mind, like the puzzle that was my life was finally forming a coherent picture. This was me. I was transgender. I pulled the flyer off of the lamppost and shoved it into my purse. When I got home, I took it out, flattened it on the table, smoothing out the creases, and stared at it. It talked about a support group for people like me. 

I knew I didn't want to go, however. I was who I was. I didn't need to go spend time with other people like me simply because they were like me. The simple fact that there were others out there in the world who were going through what I was going through was enough comfort. Support? I didn't need support. Maybe if I had to deal with someone harassing me or threatening me because of what I was... maybe then I'd have a reason to need support. 

Maybe I was bitter. I'd lived my life on my own for long enough to have independence. I kept the flyer. I tacked it to my bedroom wall. It was a welcome greeting, every day, constantly reminding me of one certain fact: You are not alone. 

I saved up a lot of money working two jobs. Eventually, I bought a car. It was a worn-down, rusted out piece of metal that had a tendency to backfire and blow out a plume of black smoke. I loved it. I would drive to work listening to loud music, banging my hand in time on the steering wheel. Ashes would fly around in the car as wind whipped in through the window. After a few weeks of having the car, I got a driver's license. Without question, an inconspicuous "F" was put under the sex category. 

I realized that there never would be an end to the constant question: "are you a boy or a girl?" Whether implied or bluntly stated, people wanted to know. People wanted to put others into a category. I got useless car insurance, too. Why did I bother to insure such a crappy car or a crappy life? 

Would I care if I died? Would anyone? 

I was twenty when Linda died. She simply didn't come home in the morning. I read in the paper that she had been found in an alley, much like Ginger, though she had overdosed. Everyone I knew was dying. 

That was a turning point in my life. I knew I had to get out. I got a newspaper and searched for a job. A real job. After two weeks of searching, I landed a nice position in an office as a secretary. I only had to lie about my entire life to get it. According to my resume, I'd graduated high school and been born female. 

After a month, I decided to find a place closer to my job. It was also closer to my old neighborhood. I found one in a large apartment complex on the fourth floor. It had a fire escape where I put potted plants and would sit to smoke and stare at the moon. Another month later, I quite smoking. I quit drinking. I'd never really had a problem with drugs, so it wasn't hard to quit those. 

I'd been living there for almost six months when I decided to call my parents. I left a message on their machine. 

"Mom... dad... it's Duo. I've got a new place nearby. I'm... doing good. I'd like to see you if I could." I tried not to cry. I swore I wouldn't cry, but I could feel the tears coming. I quickly left my phone number and hung up. I never got a call back. 

I realized, eventually, that I'd saved up a lot of money. It was then that the search began. I checked the phone book for surgeons in the area. I called their offices, explained my situation, and asked if they did female-to-male surgeries. Each call was a soul-bearing, painful process. Each call was a let-down. 

Eventually, I made my way to the library again. I used the internet to search for a doctor. I found one that very day. It was a four-hour drive to the hospital, but I called and set up an appointment for a consultation and, if things went well, the surgery. 

I was incredibly amazed that I had enough money to afford it. How had I managed to save that much? 

I took a week off from work–vacation time, with pay–and went to the hospital. It was early on a Friday morning. By Friday afternoon, I was being prepped for surgery. It all seemed surreal to me. Was it really happening? Was I really going through with this? 

I awoke later that night feeling sick and in pain. I called the nurse for some pain medication. It only made me feel more ill. It wasn't long before I turned onto my side and threw up all over the floor. There was nothing in my stomach, but I somehow managed to vomit up stomach acid. It left a burning feeling in my mouth. I called the nurse, yet again, to show her the mess I'd made. 

A few days later, it was time for the bandages to come off. The doctor came in to do the honors. He proudly examined his work. For the first time, I was able to look at my new body. I cried. 

My new female parts were swollen and stitched up. I had a dilater and catheter sticking out of my newly made vagina. It was horrific and beautiful at the same time. 

I went back to work after a week, still feeling pain when I walked. I felt overjoyed. I wanted to tell everyone, but there was no one I could confide in. I had no friends, no family, and no boyfriend. I realized then just how alone I really was. For the first time, I felt it deep in my heart. 


	7. Chapter 7

~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Growing up Girl   
by Jake (FarTooMasculine)   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My new life had begun, I realized. Slowly, I began to make friends with the other women at the office. The other women. I was one of the women. The men who wandered around flirted with us. At lunch, we ate our salads, lite dressing, we were watching our figures, you know, and shared the latest gossip. 

Slowly, my life was not so confined to myself. I shared with people. I invited others over for dinner. Friends would drop by unexpectedly. We would have 'girl's night out,' where we'd go to clubs or restaurants or just stay in and eat ice cream and watch movies. It was still hard for me, though, as they all talked about their boyfriends. That was the conversation that I was left out of. 

I told them that I was waiting for the right man. They left it at that, but sometimes would tell me, "Duo, you really should date," or "The new guy in the mail room is pretty cute. Have you talked to him yet?" 

These things nagged at me. How strange, how unexplainable, that I should run into him. 

I was twenty-one and taking a bag of chips off the shelf in the supermarket when the entire shelf itself came crashing down. Noise permeated the comfortable silence as everyone turned to stare. Chip bags flew everywhere. I stepped back to begin picking them up in shame and stepped right on a bag of Fritos. The bag popped and Fritos went furiously skidding along the floor, trying to escape my white Keds tennis shoes. A few people laughed. I knelt down and began gathering them up when an employee came up beside me to help. He looked at me and smiled before his face went blank. I didn't even have a chance to smile at him. 

"Duo?" 

My mouth fell open and I turned away, once again ashamed. How strange that I would be confronted with my past when I was becoming so happy with the present. Heero's blue eyes stared at me. My hair fell into my face, hiding the shame that burned brightly in my cheeks. I shouldn't have been ashamed. Heero had once protected me. He was once my friend. 

Our friendship had ended completely when he told me that I was "too weird." 

I did my best to act more confident than I felt. I stood up and brushed off my pants casually. He worked here. They paid him to pick up messes like these. "Nice to see you again, Heero. I'm surprised you recognized me." 

He stood up as well, letting his eyes travel along the length of my body. I hated being stared at like that, like he was trying to figure me out. "I think it's the eyes. Hard to forget." 

I knew he hadn't meant it as a compliment, but I appeared to take it as one. I said thank you and walked away. 

When I left the store, Heero followed me out, running after me to catch up. I got angry with him and whipped around, a pack of toilet paper flying out the top of my brown paper bag. He picked it up and handed it to me as I glared at him. "What do you want, Heero?" 

He seemed dumbstruck for a moment as I snatched the toilet paper away and shoved it into the bag. "You just look... so different. I mean... what?" 

I frowned at him. "I'm not a fucking drag queen, you know... I'm just a regular girl now. Nothing weird about that." I turned around and walked to my car. He followed me, once again, and took a bag from my hand. Without speaking, I opened the trunk of the car and let him put the bag inside before slamming it closed. 

I realized that Heero wasn't trying to be mean. He wasn't trying to accuse me of anything. He had a right to be confused, I supposed. I decided to be a bit more congenial. "Listen... Heero... you're a part of my old life, is all. I don't like it coming back to slap me in the face." 

He frowned, as if trying to understand, and then took my hand and shook it. It wasn't a rough, manly handshake. He held it loosely and gently. "I'm Heero. What's your name?" 

I was almost too dumbstruck to say anything. I finally managed to force out my name before releasing his hand and opening the car door. He followed me, again. "Duo... I'd like to see you again. I mean, I know you don't like your old life, but..." 

He left it at that. I hated it when people left their sentences hanging in the air. For all I knew, he could have been thinking, "but I'd like to kill you in a dark alleyway." Or it could have been something far more reasonable. "But it would be nice to get to know you again." 

I sighed, sitting down in the car. I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper out of my glove compartment and jotted down my phone number before handing it to him. "Call me tomorrow morning. We'll get together for lunch or something." 

Without a word, he nodded and turned and walked away. I watched him go back into the store, wondering what it felt like to be comfortable in your given body. 

That night, I called Hilde and we got together for dinner. Of course, she was a little mad at me for not keeping in touch with her. We ordered Chinese delivery food and sat around watching tv and talking about the people from our old neighborhood. 

Steadily, the conversation was lead to me. Where had I been? What had I been doing? Why hadn't I gotten in touch with her? I made excuses and skirted around the issue before I finally told her, with trepidation, that I'd been very busy working. I'd saved up enough money for the surgery and gotten it done and I was a real girl, now. 

She looked ready to faint. I was smiling happily. She was the first person I'd been able to share this information with. 

Then she started to cry. I couldn't understand it, at first. I leaned forward and put my arms around her and she did the same. We sat like that for a while until she calmed down, squeezed my shoulders tightly, and pulled away. 

"I just... I don't know. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this, Duo. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you through it, too. I'm sorry you had to do it alone." 

It was then that I realized it had been a big mistake to ever distance myself from her. Hilde had been, and would always be, I knew now, a good friend. "It's my own fault, Hilde. I just got tired of people. When my parents kicked me out, I started feeling like I couldn't trust anyone. Things just got worse from there." 

"You should have known you could trust me." 

"That's true. I should have." I felt very regretful. 

Hilde's mood changed, then. She was suddenly happy and excited, all over me. She wanted to know all about the surgery and how everything functioned down there. Oddly enough, it was embarrassing for me. I lead the conversation to something else. 

"Do you remember me telling you about that boy? At the school I used to go to?" I refused to ever call it something as embarrassing as a 'boy's school' or 'military school' ever again. 

Hilde nodded, pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa to throw over her legs. She cradled her Ben & Jerry's ice cream in her lap. "Heero, I think, was his name. Right?" 

I smiled. "You'll never guess what happened this afternoon." 

She got excited again. "Don't tell me! You ran into him?" 

I nodded sheepishly. Hilde shrieked. For someone who was twenty-one years old, she certainly could act like a child, sometimes. "Oh my god! Tell me what happened! Did you talk to him? What did he say?" 

"We're getting together for lunch tomorrow." 

I knew she was restraining a squeal. "What are you going to wear?" 

In seconds, we were both up off of the couch and in my closet, digging through what clothes I owned to try and find something suitable for a 'date.' I began to feel anxious about the next day. We decided how to fix up my hair. And matched my shoes and purse. And found the 'perfect' outfit: a short black skirt, white blouse, and black vest. 

The idea suddenly hit me. I really was going on a date. With Heero. Something fluttered in my chest. Something I didn't recognize, or hadn't acknowledged, until that very moment. 

I realized that I liked Heero. Respected him, at least. Felt a great sense of gratitude, definitely. Heero had protected me. When the rest of the world had been intent on destroying me or kicking me aside or ignoring me, Heero had been there and had done the only thing he knew to try and help me: he had made me stronger. I owed him greatly. 

Hilde spent the night and slept next to me in my bed. It felt odd, sleeping next to someone after spending so much time alone. I curled up at her side, remembering the last time we'd slept in the same bed: the day I'd been kicked out of my home. I made a mental note to be angry about that and to go home, one day when I was stronger, and confront my parents. If they wouldn't answer my calls, they'd have to answer to me in person. 

They just wanted to forget that they'd ever had me, but they had to face the fact that I was their child. I was who I was. Accept it or not, it was true. I'd make them see that. 

The smell of bacon and eggs woke me up. It was 10:30 in the morning, and I wondered how I'd slept so late. I usually woke up fairly early. Hilde was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast I smiled at her and sat down at the counter. I had a lovely little eat-in kitchen. I'd made the curtains that hung over the sink. They were a bright yellow, the color of the sun. Hilde put a plate of food and a glass of orange juice in front of me. I picked at it uncertainly. She watched, eyes narrowing. 

"Hilde, in all the time I've known you, you've never been able to boil water, much less cook." 

She slapped me with a dishtowel. "Things change when you're living on your own. I've picked up a few things." She sat down next to me with her own food. 

We ate in silence, until she turned to stare at me. I glanced at her and looked away. "When is he going to call, do you think?" 

I shrugged. "Sometime before 12, I hope." 

She smiled and picked up her empty plate to take to the sink. I did the same. "Whether you want to get rid of me or not, I'm staying here until he picks you up." 

"Going to be my watchdog, huh?" 

"Wouldn't want to send you off on your first date with someone who'd take advantage of you." 

I laughed a bit. "Heero's definitely not like that, Hilde." 

Hilde washed, I rinsed and dried. I nearly dropped the glass back in the sink when the phone rang. Hilde made a grab for it as I rushed to the phone, but missed. I held it tightly as I answered the phone. 

"Hello?" My heart was pounding in my chest. "This is she." I gave Hilde a smile, feeling my body relax. It was Heero. "One o'clock. Right. You can pick me up in front of my building. 713 Oglethorpe." I nodded even though he couldn't see it. "Right. I'll see you then. Bye." 

I hung up the phone and kissed the glass, doing a pirouette right there in the living room. 

"That was Heero, right?" 

"Indeed it was. He's picking me up in..." I checked my watch. "Oh my God! An hour and a half! I've got to get ready!" I ran into the bathroom to take a shower and realized I still had the glass in my hand. Hilde was standing outside of the bathroom door when I opened it back up. She took the cup, smiled, and walked away. 

I was barely ready by 1 o'clock. Hilde finally rushed me out the door as I was still putting on my shoes. We scrambled down the stairs and out the door, where we stood and waited. She sat down on the curb. I was afraid it would ruin my skirt, so I stood nearby. I barely realized that a motorcycle was coming to a stop in front of us. It didn't even register to me until he took off his helmet and stepped off the bike. 

Heero smiled at me. I stared at him, then looked at the bike. It was a dangerous-looking machine, sleek and shining, looking like it could break the sound barrier. There was chrome here and there, but it was mostly black and red. Heero's jacket was black and leather. It made noise as he held out his hand towards Hilde. She shook it. I finally came back to my senses. "Oh, sorry... Heero, this is Hilde. She's a childhood friend." 

"Nice to meet you." Hilde took a step back and checked her watch. "You two have fun. I've got to get going." She gave me a quick hug and whispered in my ear, "I never knew he was so cute!" 

I turned to Heero, still blushing. His hair had gel in it, I could see, but it was disheveled because of the helmet. I was thankful I'd braided my hair. At least it wouldn't look as unruly as Heero's. 

I realized that we were staring at each other, and looked away. I felt uncomfortable, not knowing what to say. "You look nice." 

I nodded, doing my best to accept the compliment. I didn't really believe him, to be honest. "Thank you." Silence reigned until I lifted my head and walked over to the motorcycle. "So... you ride a bike? Must be fun on rainy days." 

Heero lovingly stroked the seat of the bike. "I don't really mind it. When you love to ride, you endure anything from bugs to snow. Not that it snows down here." 

I nodded. Savannah wasn't famous for its cold winters. Heero handed me a helmet, black with a white outline of angelic-looking wings on the sides. I tapped my long fingernails against it, uncertain. He put his on. It was white with a black outline of wings. Then he flipped down the visor, climbed onto the bike, and kick-started it. The machine thrummed to life underneath him and I watched it vibrate as it idled. He revved the engine a bit as I put the helmet on. 

It wasn't easy to throw my leg over the side of the bike with such a short skirt on, but I'm sure the people across the street appreciated the view of my black panties. He yelled at me to hold on. I rested my hands on his shoulders. He grabbed onto one of them and lowered it to his waist. Were it not for the helmet and the darkened visor, I'm sure he would have seen me blush. I timidly held onto his waist. 

When we started moving, my grip tightened. It felt strange, such a small thing, so powerful, between my legs, vibrating and leaning to the right or left as Heero sharply turned corners. It was almost erotic. 

In a matter of minutes, I fell in love with it. My arms wrapped around Heero's waist, and I pressed up against his back slightly, relaxing. I leaned into the turns, like he did. The wind made my braid fly about behind me. I wondered what it would be like to be in control of the bike. When we finally slowed to a stop and he turned the bike off, I felt almost sad. He took off his helmet and glanced back at me as I took mine off and straightened my hair out as best I could without a mirror. I got off the bike and he followed. I was probably flushed with excitement. I knew I was imperceptibly shaking. All I could say was, "wow." 

Heero locked up the bike and we went inside. It was a small restaurant with a bar and live music. I'd never been there. We took a seat in the back, next to a window. Heero ordered a beer. I had a diet coke. "Watching your figure?" 

I got mad. The tone had almost seemed condescending. When I glanced at him, though, I realized that he hadn't meant it that way. I nearly smiled. "I guess so. A girl's gotta do that." 

Heero ordered the country fried steak. I got the shrimp platter and caesar salad. I suddenly realized just how uncomfortable we were around each other. Heero kept looking as if he wanted to ask questions. I was doing my best to pay attention to the band, which was doing a lovely rendition of "Fast Car," by Tracy Chapman. 

"There's something on your mind, I guess. You're holding back." I sighed, leaning my chin on my fist as my other hand picked up a shrimp and put it back down again. 

Heero looked uncomfortable, as if he'd just been found out. "Yes, I guess I am." 

"I'll do my best not to get mad, if that's what you're worried about." 

Heero took a deep breath before wiping his mouth with a napkin. He started to talk, but took a quick drink from his beer and wiped his mouth again. "I just... I don't understand it. Can you explain it to me?" 

I looked down at my plate, trying not to get angry. I always had to remind myself that not everyone went through this. Not everyone knew what it was like. Some people didn't understand, but that didn't necessarily mean they were against it or didn't accept it. "Heero... try to imagine... I guess this isn't a good example for a guy, but try imagining the most uncomfortable clothes in the world." I stopped and smiled, realizing that maybe this example could work. "Imagine having to wear a dress, every day of your life, Heero. Just because someone tells you that's what you have to wear because that dress is who you are. But it's not comfortable, is it? You don't like to leave your house because you know you'll have to wear that dress, and people will probably stare at you, wondering why you're wearing it." 

I glanced at him. He almost seemed to understand, but something was keeping him back. I knew it would be more clear with the next comment. "Imagine never being able to take that dress off. Ever. You have to live in it day and night. You see it in the mirror all the time. That's what it's like. It's like being stuck in clothes that try to define who you are, but are incorrect." 

His eyebrows lowered, nearly coming together as he thought about this. "I guess... your body is just like a set of clothes, then. It's what the world sees, but it's not what's on the inside?" 

I nodded. I was quietly thankful that he understood. 


	8. Chapter 8

~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Growing up Girl   
by Jake (FarTooMasculine)   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of lunch was fairly uneventful. I learned that Heero was in college now, working part time at the supermarket to help pay for it. He was studying to be a computer programmer and wanted to eventually save up enough money to buy a Harley Davidson motorcycle. The thought was exciting. I'd seen them before. They were huge and powerful and loud, not like Heero's slim, aerodynamic, sporty little Japanese bike. I wondered what riding one of those would feel like. In his free time, he rode his bike and worked on his bike and washed his bike. With his free money, he bought extra things for his bike. He probably didn't date much. 

"Do you do anything besides love that bike?" 

Heero looked almost sheepish. I hadn't known, until then, that it was even possible. He seemed much too confident for that. "I guess I am a little obsessed. Can you blame me?" 

I thought back to the ride over, and how great it felt, and realized that I couldn't. If it were my bike, I'd be the same way. "No, I can't." On that note, I stood up and picked up the black helmet, tapping my fingernails against it yet again. "In fact, I'm rather anxious to get back on it." 

His spirits seemed to soar with that, and he quickly paid the check. We walked out the door just as the new band started to sing "Gimme Some Lovin'." The chorus followed us outside. 

With the song running through my head, I mounted the bike, wrapping my arms around his waist again. We took off. We just rode. I flipped up the visor and felt the wind blasting my face and the sun warming my cheeks. Heero sped down Bay Street and turned onto Highway 17. We flew over the bridge and passed into South Carolina. The area was barren and flat. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and no cars on the road. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was completely and totally free. I looked up at the sky. I watched the lines on the road fly past with blinding speed. I saw the scenery rise up to meet us and then fall behind. I never wanted it to end. 

Heero eventually began to slow down. He pulled onto the side of the shoulder and shut off the bike. I looked around. We were in the middle of nowhere. Literally. For miles, there was nothing but untamed weeds, swaying in the breeze. I felt suddenly anxious and scared. Why had he brought me so far out here? 

Heero got off the bike, careful not to hit me with his boot. I looked around nervously before taking off the helmet. I half expected him to attack me, really. What else was I supposed to expect? I was surprised to see him walk around, arms up in the air as he stretched. He lowered his arm and rubbed his butt, and I found myself staring at it. "Is your ass asleep? It helps to walk around a bit." 

I got off the bike and did the same as him, stretching my arms up. My short blouse lifted up a bit, revealing my stomach, but I didn't care. 

I was surprised when I looked back down and noticed Heero staring. He blushed and looked away. Strangely, I did the same. Why was he staring at me like that? I didn't want to push him, really, but I felt the need to ask him. "Do you... like me, Heero?" 

He remained motionless for a moment, and then walked back over to the bike. It was getting to be late in the afternoon. The sun was starting to fall from the sky. There was a golden glow to everything, even his brown hair. He ignored the question. "We should probably start heading back soon." He held out the helmet to me. I silently took it and put it back on. 

We rode back. The sun reflected gold off of the water as we passed over the bridge. The lights of the city stretched out into infinity in front of us, the buildings shadowed. I sighed as we slowed and reentered downtown. Honestly, I wasn't ready for the day to be over. Not yet. I didn't know if I'd ever see him again. 

When we slowed to a stop at a red light, and the engine thrummed quietly beneath us, I took the opportunity to pull myself up next to his ear and flip up the visor covering my face. He did the same. I screamed so that he could hear me and pointed towards River Street. "Let's go down there," I told him. He looked away for a moment before nodding hesitantly. 

The road on River Street was completely cobblestone, it was so old. The bike jolted roughly as we went down it. We parked in front of a restaurant and Heero locked up the bike. Because it was a weekend, the area was lively. Music came from every direction, different notes, different songs, crashing together around us. He refused to look at me. 

I felt rejection like bile in my throat. He didn't want to be here. Was it because of what I'd asked him? I sighed. "Do you want to get a drink? If not, you can just go. I'll walk home." 

Heero's boot absently kicked at a stone nearby. He still wouldn't even glance at me. I held my breath, clenching my fists. I was getting angry. "Look, what I asked you back there, it was a simple enough question. If you don't want to answer it, that's fine, but don't act like I'm not here." He finally looked up at me. In the fading golden light, I realized just how dark his eyes could seem. Just looking at them was enough to wash away my anger. I wonder if it had the same effect on him, seeing mine. His face seemed to soften. 

"Let's get a drink." 

And just like that, we were inside the restaurant, perched at the bar. Heero had another beer. I had a strawberry daiquiri. The room was filled with smoke and people and music from an old jukebox. Eric Clapton was singing about a woman named Layla. Heero and I were talking about our lives. 

A voice boomed over the room, calling out Heero's name. We both turned around to face the person calling for him. A short Asian man, Heero's age, was stomping towards us, fists clenched. Heero smiled. "You dishonest asshole! I thought you were going to come over at five? I sat in my garage all day, waiting for you to show up!" 

Heero sipped his beer as the Asian man, Chinese I realized, silently fumed. He noticed me for the first time. I sipped my daiquiri through a straw, wide-eyed. "I see you've stood me up for a woman. How like you." Heero rolled his eyes and shrugged. I felt like I was watching a tennis match. 

"Duo, this is Wufei. Wufei, Duo." Wufei shook my hand, eyeing me suspiciously. Or was that just my imagination? 

"Interesting name." 

I shrugged. "Nice to meet you." 

A tall, brown-haired man appeared behind Wufei, weilding a pool stick like a weapon. He jabbed Wufei in the back with the butt of it. "You gonna chat, or you gonna play, man? We got money riding on this game." 

Wufei waved a hand at him and turned back to glare at Heero. "You still owe me a rematch, by the way." 

"After you're done losing money to those guys, sure." 

Heero turned back to the bar after they returned to the pool table. I stared at him, wondering if I really had to ask for an explanation. Heero drank the rest of his beer and ordered another one. "Wufei and Trowa. Friends of mine. I was supposed to go over and help Wufei work on his bike today." 

I felt strangely... honored. Heero had stood up a friend to be with me. I couldn't help smiling around the straw as I chewed on it. "So you do have friends. That's surprising." 

"Of course I do. Sort of. They're more of acquaintances, really." 

"They'd probably be devastated to hear you say that." 

"Maybe." 

Pat Benatar started singing "Hit Me With Your Best Shot." I turned around to watch Wufei and Trowa play pool. Heero leaned back against the bar. It took me a moment to realize that his hand was touching my arm. I didn't know if he noticed, so I didn't dare look at it, draw attention to it. The contact quickly ended as he reached behind him to grab his beer. 

The pool game was over. Wufei and Trowa were handing over money to a group of older men. Heero was shaking his head. "Those two think they're damn pool sharks or something, but they can't play for shit." Heero stood up and started to walk over to them before he stopped and glanced back at me. I smiled, stood up, and followed him. As Heero racked up the balls, I took a seat near the wall, letting the cold daiquiri rest against my bare thigh. Trowa came and stood by me, arms crossed over his chest. "You Heero's date for the night?" 

I nodded, smiling a bit. "Yes, I guess I am. My name's Duo." I held out my free hand. Trowa shook it. 

"Trowa." 

The sound of Wufei breaking was loud and solid. Balls flew all over the table. Not one of them went in. Heero bent down, quickly lined up a shot, and sunk it. "Does Heero date a lot?" 

Trowa smirked. I wondered why. "No, he doesn't. We tease him about it." 

"Why not?" 

He shrugged. "We don't know. That's why we fuck with him." 

I realized that I didn't understand boys one bit. Why would they tease their friend, simply because he didn't date much? It seemed cruel, to me. Trowa took a sip from his beer. "How long have you known him?" 

I looked away. I couldn't very well tell him that I'd gone to school with Heero. Trowa may have known that he'd gone to an all-boy school. "Not very long, really. We met at the store where he works." That was partly true, I reasoned. I wasn't who I used to be. I was a new person, now. 

I went back to watching the game. Heero was solids. He was winning, with one ball left on the table. Wufei was angry. When Heero's turn came back around, he impressed me, and probably everyone who was watching. He lined up a shot. It hit home, sending the three into the side pocket and then, defying all logic, the cue ball went spinning down the table, where it hit the 8-ball into a corner pocket. In one final move, he'd won the game. My jaw fell. 

Wufei broke the pool stick over his knee. 

Trowa smiled. "He loses more pool sticks that way..." 

Heero came back to my side. I'd had the presence of mind to close my mouth by that time. He grabbed hold of my arm. "Wufei's going to be pissed the rest of the night. Let's get out of here." 

I took a final sip of my daiquiri, and we left. Surprisingly, Heero didn't head towards his bike. We continued down the walkway, onto the main part of River Street. There was a blind man singing "Build Me Up Buttercup," another man accompanying him on the guitar. As we walked by, Heero dropped a dollar into the guitar case. He walked up to the railing and stared out over the river in front of us. He was smiling slightly. The moon was a bright blue color, sparkling off the water. 

I held onto the railing beside him and watched a ferry float by. Lights twinkled in the distance like fireflies. Everything was so beautiful, sometimes. Caught up in the moment, I surprised even myself by sliding my hand closer to his. He didn't seem to notice. I tentatively touched his hand with my fingertips. He glanced down, looked at me, and then pulled away, stepping back. 

I stared at him a moment, shocked, before looking away. I felt my eyes tearing up and tried to blame it on the wind. "You don't like me, do you? Why did you spend the whole day with me, then? Why bother to make me think that you do, if you're just going to be a jerk?" 

Heero narrowed his eyes at me. I did the same. I was angry. I was more than angry. I was hurt. "I don't want to play games, Heero. If you don't like me, just say so, and you don't have to see me again." 

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight, staring out over the water. He didn't seem angry anymore. Confused, perhaps. I waited. 

In an instant, the anger was back, and he turned it on me, full force. "I'm not gay, alright?!" 

I was taken aback. I felt my gut clench and my knees nearly gave out. I sat down on the granite benches in front of the railings and let the nausea of self-loathing wash over me. I started to silently cry, staring at the ground and watching my tears splash on the bricks as they hit. Heero didn't move. 

It seemed like forever before I was able to speak. "How could you say something so cruel?" I looked up at him. He looked as taken aback as I was. "I thought you understood, Heero. I thought you understood that I'm a woman." I broke down into sobs, covering my face. 

Hadn't we just spent a wonderful day together? Hadn't he been the one to want to see me? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to go out with him, just to have my heart and my pride and my self-esteem crushed under his heel. He sat down beside me. I felt his hand against my back and jerked away, more out of instinct than hate. Why would he want to touch me? I was disgusting to him. 

But he did want to touch me. He wanted to comfort me. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled my hands away from my face. I refused to look at him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. "I'm sorry." 

I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes, shaking my head. He pulled my hands away again. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay? You're right... I'm a jerk. I shouldn't have said that." 

I continued to shake my head. I hated myself. I hated who I was. I hated that I wasn't born a girl, then there would be no doubt. "No, you're right, Heero. I'm just a freak. I'm a damn freak. I'm weak and pathetic and stupid. I was dumb for getting my hopes up, thinking that anyone could like someone like me. I'm so stupid and disgusting." I curled in on myself. 

"Hey... Stop that. You know that's not true." 

"Liking me would make you gay. I'm just a boy in girl's clothes to you. I'm a circus freak. It doesn't matter to you what I went through to become who I am now. It doesn't matter to anyone. I'll always be a freak." With each word, I was steadily getting out of control. My voice was rising. People were probably staring as they walked by. Heero's grip on my wrist was tightening. "I get PMS but I don't get a period. I can never have kids. I have to take pills every day just to make myself look like a girl. Nothing I do is natural. I'm completely wrong." Heero pulled on my arm roughly. His lips pressed against mine, crushing them painfully into my teeth. 

I was being kissed. Of all the things to do, Heero had kissed me. It was rough and angry and tense. Every muscle in my body was tightened. My breathing was erratic from the tears that continued to come, rolling down my cheeks. He released my wrist and put his hand on my cheek. His eyes were closed. His fingers were gentle. He tasted like beer. 

I relaxed. I stopped crying. I raised my hand shakily to his face. As soon as I touched him, responded, he pulled away and stood up. His hands once more went inside his pockets. I stared at him blankly, confused and tired and lonely and wanting his touch again. I realized just how needy I was, how much I needed someone to love me. I was twenty-one years old and had just received my first kiss from a man whom I wasn't sure gave a damn about me, and I wanted more. It was pathetic. 

I wanted him to tell me what was going on in his head; what had just happened. I certainly had no idea. He didn't like me, yet he kissed me? Kissed me to make me shut up because he was tired of putting up with my whining? Kissed me because he was sorry for hurting me? Kissed me... just because? 

"Heero, I..." 

"We should get going. I'm sure you're ready to get home." He turned away from me and began to walk back up the road towards his bike. I numbly stood up and followed behind him. 

I didn't even feel the leather beneath my fingers as I held onto his waist. I barely noticed the power of the bike between my legs. I didn't say a word as he turned off the bike and sat there, watching me get off the bike and head towards the door. Did I need to say goodnight to him? No... the night had been over as soon as he'd made that comment. I stepped inside the door and leaned against the wall, staring at the ceiling. It was quite a while before the bike started up and I heard him pull away. 


	9. Chapter 9

~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Growing up Girl   
by Jake (FarTooMasculine)   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, I stayed in bed feeling sorry for myself. I didn't cry so much as mentally whine. It was a pathetic state of mind. I fell in and out of sleep, and when I wasn't sleeping, I was hating myself. I was wishing I was dead. I was wishing I was never born. I did nothing but cause other people pain, cause myself pain. The clock radio on my bedside table stared at me with little red numbers while Joni Mitchell sang "A Case of You." 

The phone rang. It echoed through my bedroom and reiterated itself out in the living room. I didn't move. I stared at the clock. 2:37. 

I heard my own voice on the answering machine. "...Duo Maxwell. I'm not in at the moment. Leave a name and number and I'll call you back. Beep." 

There was silence. I heard breathing. And then a click. And silence again. I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to go back to sleep. I'd thought, until then, that I was so incredibly strong. I was strong enough that I could withstand anything. I'd built up my little wall to protect myself, but it wasn't strong enough. I wasn't strong enough. The wall had cracks. Heero had gotten past my wall. I'd let him in and I'd been hurt. Again. The story of my life. 

Monday came around. I got out of bed and got dressed. Like a zombie. I rode the bus to work. I sat at my desk. At ten o'clock sharp, a man came through the front doors, carrying a large vase with a dozen long-stemmed yellow roses. The other women stared in envy as he put them on my desk. I glared at the card before opening it. "I'm sorry. I'm coming over tonight. Heero." The card was ripped in half and shoved into my trash can in a matter of seconds. Rachel, one of the other secretaries, came up to my desk and leaned against it, looking jealous. "A guy buys you a dozen roses and you throw away the card?" I stared at my computer screen. "What I wouldn't give to have a guy like that, who would actually bother to spend money on me." I wasn't really paying attention to what was on the screen. "How long have you two been dating?" 

I lowered my eyebrows. "We're not." 

Rachel stepped back. "You're not even dating, and he buys you flowers? That guy's something special, right there. If you don't want him, I'll gladly take his number off your hands." She smiled and seemed to be waiting. 

I picked up the vase of roses and held them out to her. "I don't know his phone number, but you're welcome to these." She took them and walked away. 

After work, I rode the bus home. Heero's bike was out front. Heero was sitting on the front steps, hands folded neatly in his lap. He looked uncertain. My high heels alerted him to my presence. We stared at each other for a long time. 

His leather jacket made noise as he stood up. "I'm sorry about last night." 

"You've already apologized." 

He shifted the helmet from one arm to the other. "I know... but you haven't accepted it." 

I pushed past him to the door and unlocked it. "And I won't." 

He grabbed onto the door as I tried to close it behind me. "I'm not going to let you just walk away like this. I made a mistake. That's all." 

I glared at him through the screen and the grates of the door. I had already made my decision. "You can't make a mistake like that with me. It's unforgivable." 

He let go of the door. I hesitated to shut it. I wanted him to keep trying. I mentally begged him to keep trying. Please keep trying, Heero. I'm weak, but it's okay if it's around you. I can be weak around you. Change my mind. 

He took a step backwards down the stairs and looked away. I still hadn't closed the door. He started to say something, and then hesitated and took another step down the stairs, turning around. He walked back to his bike. 

I realized I was just playing games. It was all a game. I didn't want him to leave. This whole thing was ridiculous. He was going to drive away and I may never see him again. I looked away. "Do you think you deserve a second chance?" 

He stopped putting the helmet on and glanced back at me. "No one's ever given me a second chance before." 

I pushed the door open a little more and motioned for him to come in. "Maybe I'll be the first, then." 

We went up to my apartment. Heero leaned against the back of the couch. I offered him a drink. I didn't have any beer, but he said a rum and coke would be fine. I kicked off my shoes. My toes were aching. I was shorter than him, then, as I stood in front of him, arm crossed over my stomach, holding my own drink. 

It was a long time before anything happened. I finally gave in and walked over to the stereo. I turned it on. I had one of my Elvis CD's in. The volume was low. At least it wasn't complete silence. I stared at Heero before setting my glass down on the coffee table. "We need to get one thing straight, right now." He turned to face me. "I am not a man. I've lived my whole life being not a man. I may not have always been a woman, but I was never, ever a man. If you can't get past that and see me as others do, this isn't going to work out. Even a friendship won't work out." 

He nodded, but seemed to be thinking. I waited for him to speak. "For someone who wants others to be unbelievably understanding, you're not very understanding, yourself." 

I stared at him in confusion and realized he was right. I'd never bothered to try to understand others. That's how I'd survived. If I'd worried about what everyone else thought, I never would have made it to where I was now. "It's not easy for me to see it from someone else's point of view." 

"I knew you as a boy, Duo. We went to school together. We were friends then." 

"Until you told me I was too weird." 

Heero looked like he'd been hit. "I said that what you were doing was weird. I didn't say you were." 

"What's the difference?" 

"A boy dressing in girl's clothes and wearing make-up is a bit strange. I didn't know, back then. I guess it's not all that weird, if you were never a boy." 

"That really hurt my feelings, you know." I picked my drink back up. I chugged it. I needed more. 

Elvis started singing "Anyway You Want Me." Heero walked to the stereo and turned it up, just a bit. "You like Elvis?" 

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so." 

I handed his drink back and stood in front of him. I had to look up to see his eyes. I sighed. "I'm not going to play games anymore, Heero. I want to know right now why you're even bothering to talk to me. What do you want from me?" 

He looked upset over the question. Maybe I was pushing him too far with it, but can you blame me? Could anyone blame me? I didn't want to waste time on someone who wasn't worth it. I'd wasted enough of my life, already. I could easily go out and find a man who didn't know about my past. 

I'd have to tell him eventually, though, wouldn't I? 

"What do I want from you?" 

I nodded. "Is this a relationship? Do you like me? Why did you kiss me last night? What do you want from me out of this? What are you hoping to get out of spending time with me?" 

He looked away. I realized he was staring at his helmet. It sat next to the phone on my end table. "I do like you. I don't particularly care for the fact that I like you, but I do." 

I could have done without that last comment, but it was actually a relief to hear him say that. I smiled despite myself. 

I set my glass on the table and stood in front of him. It took a lot of courage for me to say it. "Touch me." 

He stared at me. "Touch you? What?" 

I held out my arms, gesturing to myself. "I'm just like any other woman, Heero. If you can't see that, maybe you can feel it." 

I remained motionless. So did he. It seemed like forever before he put his drink down and came closer to me. He looked away as he touched my face. He didn't watch his fingers trace over my jaw, feel the smoothness of my cheek. I didn't have rough skin, facial hair like men. He didn't watch his hand travel over my shoulder–a thin shoulder, not like a man's–and down my arm. He didn't look at my hand as he held it, smaller than his own, with thin fingers and long, painted nails. He only looked at me as he touched the front of my blouse, fingers hesitating at the top button. He stared into my eyes, questioning. I nodded and looked away. I scarcely allowed myself to breathe, afraid that simple movement could have scared him. 

One by one, the tiny white buttons were pulled away. He pushed the shirt over my shoulders, still tucked into my skirt. It dangled around my waist and clung to my arms. The tips of his fingers touched my throat and traveled down the center of my chest, between my breasts, over my white lace bra. "They're real?" 

I nodded and closed my eyes, still refusing to look at him. I wasn't embarrassed. I wasn't uncomfortable. He lowered his mouth to my shoulder and kissed it. I was aroused. "You smell like a woman." He inhaled deeply, one hand at the back of my neck, in my hair. I'd never been touched so gently. And, as far as I could remember, I'd never been aroused by someone's. It scared me. 

His hand touched my left breast through the bra. He kissed my neck. He kissed my ear. I swallowed loudly, keeping my eyes closed. I wanted to raise my arms and touch him. I wouldn't let myself move. I could smell him, like motor oil and a fresh breeze. His hair was sandalwood. He was wearing aftershave. He pressed closer to me. His chest touched mine. I felt the leather jacket against my chest. 

The phone rang. I jumped. Heero stepped back and closed his eyes. He turned away and picked up his drink. I pulled my shirt back up as I answered the phone. "Hello? Yeah. He's here now, actually. Yes, really. Talking. None of your business. Okay. I'll call you later. Bye." I hung up the phone and buttoned up my blouse. Heero finished off his drink. "That was Hilde. She wanted to know how things went Saturday." 

Heero walked to the kitchen and put his glass in the sink. "I guess I should get going." 

I wanted to tell him that he didn't have to leave. He could stay. For as long as he wanted, he could stay. I nodded. He grabbed his helmet and walked towards the door. "I'll... call you Friday." 

I smiled. And he walked out the door. 


	10. Chapter 10

~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Growing up Girl   
by Jake (FarTooMasculine)   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I could barely wait for the week to be over. I sped through my work at the office. I smiled all the way home on the bus. I went to bed early to pass the time. All week, I was excited. When Friday rolled around, I left work early, wanting to get home and sit by the phone and wait for Heero to call. At exactly 5:23, the time I usually walk through the door and take off my shoes, the phone rang. I turned off the tv and answered it, a smile in my voice. "Hello?" It was Heero. He wanted to come pick me up and we'd go out for drinks. Of course, I accepted. 

I wore pants, so that I could get on the bike easier. He handed me the spare helmet. I climbed on the bike behind him. 

Trowa and Wufei were at the bar. Heero and I sat at a table and watched them play pool. The jukebox was playing more recent songs. College students were everywhere. Heero waved at a lot of people. He was popular. Popular, but distant. I wondered how many people had gotten close to him? And how close had they gotten? 

Wufei and Trowa had to pay up. They'd lost the game. I smiled at them and patted Trowa on the shoulder to comfort him. The three of them sat around drinking beers. I nursed my strawberry daiquiri. Everything felt so natural, until I realized something: This wasn't a date. Heero had taken me out for drinks with the guys. I listened to their conversation. They were talking about motorcycles. I lowered my eyebrows and glared at Heero. After a moment, he noticed and stared at me. "What?" 

All three of them stared at me. "I need to talk to you. Privately." I got up and left the bar. Heero followed not far behind. I turned to glare at him, arms crossed over my chest. "What exactly is going on, here?" 

He looked confused. "What?" 

"Why did you bring me out drinking with your guy friends?" 

He raised an eyebrow and stared at me as if I had lost my mind. "I... thought you had fun with them last time?" 

"I did... but I'd rather just spend time with you. Or is this not a date?" 

He looked around. He was confused and surprised. I'd caught him off guard. Maybe I was being a little harsh. "I... don't know what this is. Just spending time together, I guess." 

"Time together, alone, would be better, Heero." 

He smirked and shook his head, hands on his hips. His jacket bunched up around his waist. He took a step closer and looked into my eyes. Smooth was the only way to describe it. He looked smooth. "So you want me to take you on a real date, then?" I wasn't taken in by his charms. I nodded. He put his hand on my cheek and leaned forward. His lips caused my body to tighten and my stomach to clench. All of that from such a short kiss. 

I hadn't known that I could ever be left breathless. I'd seen it in movies. Read about it. I thought it was over dramatic, things like that happening. It wasn't. It was real. "Let me go tell the guys. I'll be right back." 

I waited outside, motionless. I was standing on the porch, right in front of the door. It didn't surprise me too much when a man, completely drunk, came stumbling outside and bumped right into me. I grabbed onto the railing to steady myself. He grabbed onto me to steady himself. His hand groped my chest. I gasped, turned around, and slapped him. He fell over. His friends, also drunk, started yelling at me. They got up in my face. They called me a bitch. A cunt. A whore. I pressed back against the railing. The man I'd slapped came up to me and grabbed my arm. He started jerking me around. I tried to pull away. He slapped me across the face. I screamed and fell to the floor. They were yelling things at me, grabbing on to me and groping me. I was disgusted and angry and scared. I kicked at them and fought back. 

One of them was suddenly pulled away. Another was hit over the back with a chair, which broke apart. He fell, face-first and motionless, onto the floor beside me. I saw Heero grab one of them by the shoulder, spin him around, and hit him so hard he fell backwards, broke the railing, and dropped a good five feet to the cobblestone road below. He didn't get back up. I'd never seen a fight like this before. I'd never known punches could be that powerful, so forceful that Heero's entire body followed the momentum of it. I crawled back into a corner and watched. More people were joining in, pouring out of the bar to jump on Heero and Trowa and Wufei. It was a complete drunken brawl. 

Heero was shoved onto the ground. I shrieked as I watched his face connect with the wooden planks and slide painfully against the splintering wood. More people jumped into the fight. In a moment of bravery I didn't know I possessed, I stood up and dove into the fight. I knew it was stupid. I was one of the only women fighting. Huge men with sweaty faces and hairy chests, their breath smelling like vodka and whiskey, were all around me. I shoved through the crowd to get to Heero. A man was standing between us. He wasn't much bigger than me. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, like Heero had done. Then I punched him in the face. There was a painful cracking in my hand as my knuckles hit his jaw. Surprisingly, he fell to the floor. I stood motionless, staring at my fist. 

The lessons I'd taken with Heero had paid off, apparently. Even after so long, now, I remembered how to punch. I rather liked it, too. 

Heero grabbed my arm and pulled me down the stairs. We heard sirens wailing over Matchbox 20, the jukebox still playing loudly inside. We ran to the bike and didn't bother to put our helmets on. As soon as my arms were wrapped securely around his waist, we took off. I laughed loudly. Adrenaline was screaming in my veins, leaving me excited and shaking and crying all at once, anything to get the emotions out. 

I didn't know where we were heading. I didn't care. Heero's hand slid down to mine and covered it from the cool wind. I put my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. My braid flew around behind me and slapped my back. I listened to the whining of the engine. 

I could have fallen asleep. Maybe I did. When I finally opened my eyes, we were on the outskirts of town, slowing down as we pulled into a driveway. The house in front of us was small and looked rather rundown. There were sheets hanging up like curtains in the windows. I saw someone peek out from behind them. Heero turned off the bike and wheeled it under the carport. I got off the bike as he locked it up. "Where are we?" 

He looked around. "Oh, this is my place." 

I blinked at him and stared at the pathetic building, trying to remind myself that he was a young college student who worked at a supermarket part-time. We walked to the door. The concrete path had broken pieces and the plants that lined it were all dead. It wasn't locked. We stepped inside. 

The floor seemed to have once been a creme color, so badly worn and dirty that it was brown. The walls had stains. The tv was screaming loudly, an old western show on. People waved to Heero from the couch and the recliner. I didn't recognize them. They all had beers. 

The house was dimly lit, but I caught site of Heero's face and let out a surprised sound. He stared at me, then reached up to touch his bleeding cheek. He took me into the bathroom and handed over a small first-aid kit. "Would you mind?" 

I took it from him. He closed the toilet lid and sat down, taking off his jacket. That was the first time I'd seen him without it on. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, resting in a bundle atop his shoulders. I tried to ignore how large his arms were compared to mine, how attractive they were, how powerful. I knelt down in front of him. He leaned forward and I used an alcohol pad to clean the area. 

He started to hiss in pain. I blew lightly on his cheek. I hadn't meant it to seem that intimate. He closed his eyes and I could swear he was smiling. "This is nice." 

I smiled and shook my head. "Cleaning up a bloody face after a drunken brawl?" 

"No... having a woman here to take care of me." He turned his head just slightly and kissed the inside of my wrist. I couldn't move. 

It was such a simple, simple action, yet it sent sparks of excitement through my body. It seems cliche, but I nearly shivered at the small contact. I tried to concentrate on the scratches across his cheek. There were splinters dug into his skin. "Do you have tweezers?" 

He pulled open a drawer and searched around until he found them and handed them over. I had to get closer to see them. I held the back of his head with one hand. We were so close, I could feel him breathing. It was hard to keep my hand steady. There were only three, but it took me forever to remove them. My hand rested against his cheek. I could feel the roughness of facial stubble against my wrist. The splinters removed, I smoothed antibacterial cream into his cheek. It left the skin there shiny and greasy. I used toilet paper to wipe it off of my fingers as Heero grabbed his jacket. He left the room. I followed him down the hall, where he opened a door and stepped inside. The room was dark. I closed the door just as he turned on a lamp near his bed, which was nothing more than a mattress on the floor, covered with a blanket and sheet. The curtain was a sheet, tacked up. There was a pillow without a case on the floor. There were posters on the walls of motorcycles and motorcycles with women on them. The stereo had only one speaker. The dresser drawers were hanging open. The small table had only an alarm clock and a lamp. His books were piled up in a corner, near an open backpack. There was a pair of roller blades in the floor of his closet which had no door, along with a pair of tennis shoes. I smiled. 

"Nice." 

He sat down on the mattress bed and shrugged. "It's a place to sleep. And drink. Speaking of which: would you mind getting me a beer from the fridge?" 

I didn't even bother to argue that I was the guest and he should be getting me a beer. The fridge had three six-packs, a bowl with an unidentifiable red sauce in it, an open can of chicken noodle soup, and a bag of baby carrots. I grabbed two beers and headed back to Heero's room. 

He had his shirt off when I came in the room. I nearly dropped the beers. It was hard just to walk over to him and hand one over. I kept one for myself, already guessing that I'd need it, even though I hate beer. I sat down beside him and popped it open. Silence hung in the air like heavy fog. 

Heero slurped from the can. I played with the tab. "Thank you, Heero." 

"Hm? For what?" He stared straight ahead, at the wall. 

"For helping me, I guess. You're really the only person who's... helped me." I remembered Linda, the prostitute who had helped me in the only way she could, and I sighed. "No, I guess that's not true. Others have helped me. But you're the only person who's cared. Who's protected me." 

He touched the top of my head, ran his hand down my hair, down the length of the braid. "You're welcome." His hand came to rest on my lower back. I looked over at him. He was looking at me and smiling. 

There was something in his eyes. Something I'd seen before. I knew then why he'd helped me. He wanted something in return. 

But I must have been mistaken, because he didn't move. He didn't try to kiss me or take advantage of me. Didn't force me to the floor and have his way with me and make me cry. Maybe I only saw that because it's what I expected. It's what so many other men would have wanted and done. 

He just let his hand rest on my back, fingers moving every now and then, sometimes touching my braid again. And I stared ahead at the wall, at a picture of a large, powerful Harley Davidson with chrome and a red and black color scheme. "Why do you protect me, anyway?" 

Heero took his hand off my back and scooted back on the bed, leaning against the wall. He held his beer in his lap. "I guess I just don't like seeing women hurt. In any way. I've seen enough of that." 

"That wouldn't explain why you helped me back then... in school." 

Heero looked right at me. I saw his face. There was no room for lying. There was no sign of bullshit, to put it simply. "I guess I already knew, back then. I was just too young to realize it." 

I smiled and lay down on my side, using Heero's thigh as a pillow. I silently kissed his black jeans, hoping he wouldn't notice. He played with the wisps of stray hair around my ear. "Honestly, I didn't think guys like you existed. You're just so... nice." 

Heero's hand stopped moving. "I'm not that nice." 

"Yes you are. You've got a rough exterior going on, the whole macho image, but inside, you're one of the kindest people I've met." His fingers continued to play with my hair. 

I woke up Saturday morning to see my hand in front of my face, resting on a bare chest. It took me a moment to realize where I was. Heero was beneath me, awake but breathing softly and staring at the ceiling. When I moved, he noticed I was awake and smiled at me. I tried to remember how I'd fallen asleep. 

The sheet was pulled up over my shoulders. I could hear the television in the living room. Cars drove by on the road outside the window. "What time is it?" 

Heero checked his watch. "9:30." 

I sat up, feeling a little sad for leaving such a warm, comfortable spot. He sat up as well. I watched his muscles flex as he stood up, grabbing a shirt from the floor to put on. "I fell asleep?" I pulled on my shirt, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles. I realized my shoes were still on. What a dumb question. 

"Uh... yeah. Not long after you laid down on my lap." He stretched and yawned and walked around a bit. I still hadn't gotten out of the bed. "Breakfast?" 

I only ate breakfast on rare occasions. I shook my head. "I should probably get home. I need a shower." 

Heero nodded. I stared at the large bruised scrape on his cheek and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I couldn't help but smiling. He probably didn't know why I was doing it, but he grinned back at me, all the same. 

When Heero dropped me off, he took off his helmet and walked me up the stairs to my building. I hesitated going inside, fingers gripping the door, but not really wanting to pull it open. "Again, thanks for last night." 

He nodded and stared down, scraping his boot across the concrete steps. It must have taken courage, because I noticed his hesitation as he took another step forward. He came closer to me and looked into my eyes. I wondered if he was going to kiss me. I wondered if this would be the first kiss we would share where he wasn't uncertain, I wasn't uncertain, as to why it had been done. 

And he did kiss me. There was more nervousness than passion. It was awkward. He bumped his nose against mine, but ignored it. Our teeth knocked together and we smiled. And after the initial nervousness was over, there was nothing but a breath-seizing emotion, all through my body. I felt his tongue touch mine. It was cold and tasted of toothpaste. I held his shoulder gently. He inhaled and exhaled and the passage of air across my cheek tickled me. 

And then it was over. 

He stepped away, smiled, and turned to walk down the steps. "I'll call you tonight." And he waved at me from the bike before driving away. 

I touched my fingers to my lips and hurried inside, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to scream. I wanted to dance. I wanted to jump from a building and just fly off. But first, I needed to call Hilde. 


	11. Chapter 11

~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Growing up Girl   
by Jake (FarTooMasculine)   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just wanted to make sure everyone knows: I posted Chapter 10 on my site, then took it down and rewrote the ending. If by some chance you read it on my website, you may want to check and make sure you didn't read the wrong version. =) 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


I told Hilde about my evening, then invited her out to lunch. 

We ate at a nice little café under a large awning, because I felt I deserved it. We basked in the shade and sipped our iced tea as people walked by. Saturday, and everyone was in a hurry. A horse-drawn carriage passed by. 

"So what exactly is going on with you and this Heero guy?" 

I stirred the tea with my straw. "What do you mean?" 

"What I mean is," she peered at me, leaning forward a bit and interrupting the tranquility of our little shaded table, "he kissed you this morning. That's the second time he's done that. But from what you say, he's not so sure he considers you female." 

I hissed at Hilde to lower her voice. She gave the thought a dismissive wave. "And he's been very blunt about the fact that he's not gay. So... are you two in a relationship, with all of that?" 

Hilde's words knocked a sense of reality into my fantasy. I realized that I didn't know. I just didn't know. I thought I could ride it all out, see what we came to in the end. Now I was uncertain. I tried to sound casual. "I guess so. I'm not sure. I don't want to push him." 

Hilde slammed her fist down on the table. I'd never seen her act so aggressive. She was usually a very easy-going person. "Dammit, Duo... I've seen you go through enough shit to last a lifetime. You don't need this, too. What if he's just jerking you around? Guys can be total dicks. He may just be using you to get into your pants and see what it's like. Do you really want that? Do you want to be that guy's whore? 'Cause if you do, you're doing a damn fine--" 

"Alright, Hilde!" I slumped down in my chair and glared at the iced tea. I didn't need her to remind me of my past. Seeing myself in the mirror every day did a good enough job of that. And she didn't need to tell me how men could be, either. I knew them very well. "I'll be fine, alright? I don't need you lecturing me." 

Her features softened. She sat back. "Sorry." 

I stood up to leave. "It's alright. I need to get home, anyway. Heero's going to call tonight." She snorted. 

I left. 

Just as the six o'clock news was coming on, the phone rang. I was happy to hear Heero's voice on the other line. He seemed overly happy about something, and invited me over to his house. I was surprised that he didn't want to come pick me up, but I got ready all the same and took my beat-up old car, which I loved dearly, to his place. 

There were two cars in the driveway. I parked on the street. 

Heero opened the door to greet me. When I peered inside, I realized Trowa and Wufei were sitting on the couch watching television. There was also someone else there, whom I hadn't seen in a very long time. 

My breath caught in my throat when I realized just who it was. 

"Quatre?" 

He looked over at me and his eyes widened in recognition that quickly changed to confusion. Heero stared at me. "Oh, you two know each other?" 

I quickly tried to change the subject. "Where are your roommates?" 

Heero seemed caught between two conversations. "They're at a party somewhere. Where do you two know each other?" 

"We went to school together." 

I practically felt the blood, the color drain from my face. My body went numb. I saw Wufei stiffen. "I thought you went to school with Heero?" 

"I did." He wasn't being accusatory. I could tell that, at least. He was just very, very confused. 

Trowa piped in. "But Heero went to an all-boy school." They slowly turned to stare at me. 

I saw Heero's jaw tighten. I took a minute step back, feeling the sudden need to run away. Fast. I looked pathetically at Quatre. He looked away. "I went to school with Duo before the Academy." 

And just like that, the tension left the room. Heero relaxed. Trowa and Wufei seemed to nod in unison before turning back to the television. 

It took an amazing amount of self-control to excuse myself to the bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and started trembling like crazy. I slowly sank to the floor, covering my mouth and trying to remember how to breath. I had almost been found out. My secret had almost been revealed. 

After a while, there was a knock on the door. I expected it was Heero and opened it. Quatre stood there, looking down at me. When had he gotten so tall? He had grown so much. I still felt so very small. 

"What is going on with you, Duo?" I opened the door fully. He stepped inside and used the better light of the bathroom to look over me. 

I had to look away. "I've changed a bit." 

"Yes, you have." 

"Don't tell me you didn't know about it. You know what happened the day I left school." 

"I heard rumors that you were really a girl, or something. How could you expect me to believe that?" He put his hands on his hips, defiant of what I was implying I wanted him to believe. 

"I wasn't really a girl. I just became one." 

I faired a glance at him. He was smirking. Then he shook his head. "Alright, then." He put his hand on my shoulder. It was gentle. I didn't feel the need to shy away from it. "I'm sorry I almost messed things up. I'll be more careful next time." 

I was in shock. How could someone be so understanding? People like that really existed? How could that be? How could...? 

We finally left the bathroom. Heero had settled down on the love seat in the living room. I sat next to him. Trowa was hunched over the table. His long legs stuck out to the sides as he peered down, closely scrutinizing something. I looked closer and realized what it was. 

I turned to Heero and glared at him. "You invited me over to smoke weed?" 

Heero grinned. I turned back and watched Trowa struggle to roll the joint. I held out my hand. "May I?" He raised his eyebrows, but handed it over. I quickly finished rolling it and gave it back to him. I'd done it enough, it was an ingrained habit, now. Linda was always fumbling clumsily with those things. I had become her official roller, even if I'd never smoked before. 

In a matter of seconds, the permeating smell of marijuana was all around. I watched them all take hits from it. Even Heero. And then it was passed to me. I licked my suddenly dry lips. Did I really want to do this? Was it peer pressure? 

Heero was staring at me, and suddenly I didn't care. I put it to my lips and sucked on it, then immediately exhaled. Quatre started laughing.I realized everyone was staring at me. 

Heero shook his head and reached over to take the joint from me. I stared at him, confused. "That's not how you smoke, girl." And then he showed me how. "You gotta put your lips like this. Yeah. And then you take it into your mouth. And then you breathe in. And hold it." 

I watched him sit there, imagining the smoke swirling about in his lungs as he held them tightly shut. And when he exhaled, it was smooth and sexy. Linda used to cough a lot. I tried again, with my new knowledge. 

I inhaled and began a coughing fit. Heero put his hand on my back. Quatre was laughing like mad. "That'll happen the first few times," Heero said soothingly. 

I sat back on the couch, feeling like the top of my head had opened up and the light from the room was pouring into it, pushing out my soul. It was so strange. 

I felt like I was outside myself. And when it came back around, I took another hit. And then another. Trowa told me to pass it on. I reluctantly did so. 

Eventually, the joint was gone. We all sat in a smoke-filled room, with cartoons running wild on the television in front of us. Quatre was still laughing like crazy. Wufei seemed angry. Trowa was extremely quiet. Heero had his arm around my shoulder and was gently tickling my arm with his fingertips, as if he couldn't stop touching me. 

Then Quatre sat up, a serious look on his face. "Heero... do you remember that time in school? When the football team, they were doing that hazing thing? And they made us jump into the pool naked in the middle of winter?" 

Heero nodded solemnly and inched closer to me. I leaned my head on his shoulder. 

"That was funny!" 

And then Quatre burst out laughing again. The laughter contagiously caught on to Wufei and Trowa and myself. Heero laughed a little. I could feel his body shaking beside me. 

"I remember one time in high school," Wufei started, suddenly happy after the laughing fit. "There was this girl that I really liked... and she came to school one day with this big pimple on her face. And I finally got up the courage to talk to her, and I made her smile, and the pimple just exploded and hit me right in the face!" 

Everyone started laughing. Trowa yelled at him. "You fucking liar, man! It was your pimple that exploded in the girl's face, dumbass." 

That only served to make us laugh harder. Heero leaned forward and slapped his thigh, he was laughing so hard. 

I definitely didn't regret coming over, now. Heero was laughing. I realized it was the first time I'd seen him laugh. 

Wufei got up and went to the kitchen. Trowa told me to roll another joint. I was just finishing it up when Wufei came back with a six pack. He passed around the beers. We all passed around the joint. 

As the night passed, we became more mellow. The marijuana took hold of our bodies and our minds. 

The conversation returned to school. Out of nowhere, Trowa sat up, leaned forward on his knees, and pointed at Quatre. He was squinting and looking confused. "Wait a minute, here..." 

We all waited anxiously for something new to laugh at. 

"You said Duo was your roommate. How the hell were did you get a girl as a roommate?" 

The only sound in the room was the television. Trowa was drunk. He wanted an answer. Quatre stared at him blankly. His mind hadn't been ready for that. He couldn't think fast enough. 

"Man, will you shut the hell up about that already?" Heero was staring at him angrily. His arm had tightened around my shoulder. I watched Trowa slowly turn and glare at Heero. Wufei was doing the same. 

"...something's going on here," Wufei surmised. 

Trowa agreed with a grunt. He turned his glare on me. "Just what school did you go to, Duo?" 

I stared at him blankly. Inside, I was shaking with fear. I tried not to let it show as I wondered how this had happened. Why this had happened. 

Wufei's eyes passed over me meticulously. "Something's going on here," he said again. 

"I said shut up. Both of you." Heero sat forward slightly, getting ready to defend me. Or himself. His pride. Even now, I don't know which it was. 

Trowa sat back a little, apparently surprised at the outburst. "What are you guys hiding?" 

There was silence for a while, save for that damn tv. 

"Someone better spill it." 

No one who knew the truth seemed willing. More time passed. Trowa went back to watching tv. The atmosphere was heavy with doubt and unspoken truths. I realized the night was over. 

I pulled free of Heero's hold and quickly went out the door. Heero followed me. He called for me to wait, but that only made me move faster. I was just about to open the door to my car when his hand on my wrist made me stop. I turned and glared at him furiously. 

"Just what the hell are you trying to do to me, Heero?" I was screaming at him. With the words, I began to cry. He pulled on my wrist a bit. I jerked away. 

He looked distraught. Sad. Worried. "I'm not trying to do anything, Duo. I don't know what I'm doing." 

I slapped him across the face. The sound echoed in my mind. I'd never thought I was capable of such an action, but I did it, all the same. He didn't move, face turned to the side from the force of the blow. He hissed in pain. I'd hit his bruised, scraped cheek. "You bring me over here to get stoned with your friends. You invite Quatre. Quatre, Heero. You knew him from school! What the hell were you thinking?" I stopped crying when I realized just how angry I was. 

"It was a big school." He turned to look at me, then looked away. "I didn't know you knew each other." 

"We lived in the same room! He almost blurted out everything in front of your friends! Do you have any idea what that would do to me?" 

He glared at me. I'd never been under the full force of that glare; never realized how powerful it was. I took a step back in fear. "Do you know what it would do to me, Duo? Do you realize what I'm risking for you? You're so damn selfish!" He stepped closer. "What about me? What about my reputation? Stop thinking about yourself and look at what I'm risking just to see you." 

My mouth fell open. I could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. Complete and utter numbness washed over me. I couldn't feel angry. Or sad. Or even confused. I was too shocked for anything. 

And then anger hit me like a ton of bricks. I shoved him in the chest, pushed him against the side of my car. "How dare you say those things to me! How dare you! I've lived my entire life for myself, just trying to survive! I have a damn right to be selfish. If I wasn't selfish, I wouldn't be who I was today! I wouldn't be a girl right now!" I was screaming right in his face. It was no wonder the front door had opened and Heero's friends had slowly come outside. 

It was also no wonder they'd heard every word. 

Trowa was approaching us, Wufei in tow. They each grabbed on to one of us and pulled us apart. I fought against Trowa as he held my arms. Being held back only made me want to attack Heero more. I elbowed Trowa in the ribs and stepped on his foot. He had a time keeping hold of me. 

"Damn, you fight like a guy!" 

That stopped me in my tracks. I went limp in his arms. He didn't bother to hold on to me. I sank to the ground again, feeling lifeless. I stared at nothing and everything. Trowa was standing over me, arms crossed. He was smirking and looked almost malicious. "That's your secret, isn't it? You're a guy." 

It would have seemed presumptuous under any other circumstances, if anyone else had been accused of it. With me, though, it was true. I couldn't lie. I couldn't even find the strength to lie. I didn't admit to it, either. Admitting to it would mean my life had been worthless. And I wasn't a guy. I wasn't male. That was the whole point. I slowly stood back up. 

"Do you pee standing up, or what?" Wufei started laughing. 

I looked at Heero. He was still being held back, though he wasn't giving much resistance. Maybe he couldn't find the strength to fight back. A car slowly came to a stop on the street behind us. Some of Heero's roommates poured out. They were all drunk and yelling loudly. 

Our attention turned to them. Their attention turned to us. 

"...the fuck is going on here?" 

Wufei let go of Heero and pointed at me. "That's a guy, man! He's a fucking faggot!" 

I cringed at the word. I'd heard it so many times before, it made me sick. I remembered being beaten up in the showers and having that word yelled at me to remind me, each time I was kicked with a steel-toed boot. I remembered being shoved into the pool and taunted as I tried to get out and was shoved back in. And they called me a faggot. I remembered having my pants pulled down as I was held and struggled to get away, and they poked painfully at my genitals as they mocked me. And they called me a faggot. I remembered having my head shoved into the toilet and coughing up water that tasted of urine. And I gagged and threw up. And they called me a faggot. And the teachers who turned their heads away and ignored the bullying because I was a faggot. I was nothing more than a faggot. 

The others were surrounding me. I didn't even care anymore. 

"Leave her the fuck alone!" 

Heero shoved some of them away. There were too many. They were his friends. He wasn't willing to fight them. Not for me. They kept him back. They kept him away from me. I was pulled to my feet by one of them. He grabbed my chest. "Man, she's got tits. It's a girl." 

"No way. That's a guy." 

And they started to argue amongst themselves. Was I male? Was I female? Was I caught in between? Something not accepted? Not acceptable? And the consensus of the group was that I should have my clothes removed. That way, they would know. 

My shirt was ripped off. My bra was pulled on and snapped painfully back to my skin. My skirt was pulled up around my chest and my panties were ripped away. I screamed. 

"I said leave her the fuck alone!" And then there was a flurry of movement. Fists went flying. There was shouting. I watched Heero get hit, and return the punch. Quatre ran over to me and helped me up. He put me in my car and climbed in beside me. Before I knew it, we were driving away from everything. I watched the streetlights fly past and wondered how fast we were going. 

Quatre used his knee to steer the car as he took off his shirt and handed it over to me. I glanced at the piece of fabric he'd offered me to cover myself with. Then I looked at him. Shirtless. Muscles and biceps and a bare chest, full of power. 

And I screamed. 


	12. Chapter 12

~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Growing up Girl   
by Jake (FarTooMasculine)   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My scream caused Quatre to nearly run the car off the road. He screamed right along with me before telling me to calm down. He pulled the car off the road, turned it off, and we just sat there. 

I don't think either of us knew what was going on, then. I had gone beyond coherent thought. All I knew was that there was a male in front of me. He had his shirt off. I saw masculinity, like an entity, all around him. I was beyond scared of it. 

He must have realized. He put his shirt back on. 

We sat in silence. I stared out the windshield, watching cars drive by, their headlights shining in. He eventually cleared his throat. I did my best to cover myself up with my arms and what was left of my shirt. "Are you okay?" 

I could barely raise my voice above a whisper. In my mind, I knew that Quatre wouldn't hurt me. There was nothing to be afraid of, from him. But my body was telling me differently. I was as far away from him as I could get. I would have happily climbed into the backseat to get further away, were I not afraid to move. "Why did you help me?" 

"I couldn't just stand there, Duo. Christ." He looked at me as if I were crazy. I stiffened. 

"What if something happens to Heero?" I had no idea what his friends were capable of. I felt myself worrying over his safety. And what about Trowa and Wufei? I wasn't worried about them. More than anything, I was angry. I was feeling more angry than I'd ever felt in my life. It was boiling inside of me. I'd been angry for so long at the world for not accepting me, not making things easy for me in any way. And the anger was starting to overflow. 

Quatre saw it when I looked at him. "I was more worried about getting you out of there," he said. And then, moments later, "would you like to go back?" 

I sat staring out the window again, wondering. I was worried about Heero. But I didn't want to go back to that place. "No." I made Quatre switch seats with me and I drove to a convenience store. It was nearly twelve o'clock at night, by that time. The store was closed. It was in a bad neighborhood. I didn't have it in me to be afraid. Fear had been beaten out of me. 

I decided to call Heero and see how things were going. I realized I didn't know his phone number, or even his last name, so that I could look him up. I didn't even know if he had a phone at his house. I stood there staring blankly at the plastic receiver in my hand as the dial tone buzzed impatiently at me. I got angry again. 

I was going through a lot of emotions. I couldn't control myself anymore. I started beating the phone against the side of the booth, making dents in the plastic casing. I beat a hole into it. The dial tone still buzzed. I pulled on the phone cord before hitting it some more. Pieces of the phone broke off. Wires hung out all over the place. I ripped the cord out of it and threw the phone to the ground. It shattered. I screamed and started kicking and punching things, trying to tear up the machine even more. 

I didn't stop until I felt Quatre's hand on my shoulder. I didn't want him touching me. He may not have been threatening in the least, but I didn't want to touch him. I pulled away and slumped down on the curb, trying not to cry and feeling angry. 

Quatre picked up the other phone and called Heero. I watched him become worried. "What did you guys do to him?" 

His eyebrows lowered. He looked angry. I heard people laughing. Five feet away, and I heard people on the other end laughing. Then I heard a voice and recognized it as Trowa's. He must have been screaming for me to hear him. I hadn't known Trowa would ever scream. He was always so calm when I saw him. He said something about a hospital. 

A few seconds later, Quatre hung up and started running to the car. He yelled at me to follow him. As soon as my door was closed, we sped off. An oncoming car had to swerve to get out of the way as we pulled onto the street, heading back towards Heero's place. I realized how panicked Quatre was and I stared at him, confused. "What's going on?" 

"Heero's roommates beat the shit out of him. They won't let Trowa or Wufei take him to the hospital." 

I started panicking, too. "Is he alright? What did they do?" 

"I don't know yet. I don't know." He was yelling. His hands, gripping the steering wheel, were white-knuckled. My car was going a speed I didn't know it was capable of going. I heard the engine scream in protest. Right then, I didn't care if it blew up, just as long as we got to Heero's house. 

I remembered I had some clothes in the back of my car, from a trip to the Laundromat. I climbed into the back seat and dug around in the basket until I found a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I took off the ripped blouse, not even caring that I was exposing myself right behind Quatre, and he could just look in the rearview mirror to see me. I put on the shirt and the jeans and tossed the ripped clothes into the front seat. He was watching the road intently. I did the same, leaning forward from the back seat. 

We got to his house in record time. Quatre didn't even really bother to park the car. I jumped out the back door while we were still moving. I ran to the door and started banging on it. Quatre was right behind me. Wufei opened the door. He looked distraught. I pushed past him. "Where is he?" 

"You shouldn't have come here. You should have just called an ambulance or the police or something!" 

Quatre grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. "Where the hell is he, Wufei?" 

Trowa, sitting on the couch, stood up. "He's in his room." 

I immediately ran down the hall and shoved the door open so hard that I just knew the doorknob had made a hole in the wall. The room was dark. I went to turn on the lamp and kicked something. Then I realized it was Heero. "Oh my God!" I started crying right there and knelt down, trying to sit him up. I put his head in my lap and brushed his hair back. My hand felt wet. I heard him grunt from pain. 

Quatre rushed into the room. I told him to turn on the light. When he did, I had to look away. Heero looked like he'd been run over by a truck, his face was so badly beaten. There was a pool of blood on the carpet where he'd been laying. It had soaked into it, leaving a dark stain. 

"Jesus H. Christ." 

Trowa hovered at the door, looking helpless. One of Heero's roommates came up behind him and shoved him out of the way. I realized Trowa was trying to restrain himself and not fight. Was it because they were outnumbered? He had bruises on his face and there was a lot of blood on his shirt. 

"The faggot returns to take care of his boyfriend." I glared at him. He was tall, with black hair and dark eyes. He had a beer in his hand. He was completely drunk and swaying where he stood. Despite the marks on his face, he didn't seem to be in any pain. I hoped that Heero had been the one to make those marks. 

He started to walk towards me. Quatre stood up and stood between us. "We're taking Heero to the hospital. Right now." 

The man shrugged, looking as if he didn't care. "You'll have to get past everyone else. You do realize that, right?" 

Quatre shoved him into the wall. "He's your goddamn friend! How can you do this?" 

"We're not going to risk going to jail over beating up a faggot like him!" 

More people started to gather around the door. Wufei shoved through them and stood beside Trowa. 

I glared at all of them, even Quatre. I wasn't going to just sit there and take all of this. Not anymore. I may have been a woman, but I could still be strong, I realized. I stood up and pulled Heero to his feet. He started to wake up. He looked very disoriented and leaned on me. He was heavy. I struggled to keep him upright. 

Wufei went to his other side and put Heero's arm around his shoulder, helping me to support him. "I'm sorry, Duo." 

"Fuck you." I started to push through everyone. I realized they weren't all Heero's roommates. They must have brought the party here. It was probably the crowning event of the evening, beating up Heero. I was disgusted with people, just then. 

"Are you just gonna let 'em go?" I heard people rustling around behind us as we went down the hall, towards the living room and eventually the front door. 

Something smashed into the back of my head and I fell down, wondering what had happened. It felt like my eyes had exploded. I couldn't open them, but I was seeing red. I didn't cry out. I didn't have the presence of mind to use my voice. 

I heard rather than saw the fight. There was a hand on my shoulder, probably Quatre's. And then it was gone, just like that. People were yelling. I heard punches hitting home. A bone cracked. Someone was slammed against the wall. 

When I finally was able to open my eyes–it seemed like forever, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds–I saw Heero on his feet, still fighting. He threw a weak punch, missed, and was hit hard in the jaw. He fell up against the wall. One of them grabbed Heero's hair and started slamming his head against the wood. It left a dent. 

I stood up on weak knees. I grabbed a beer bottle, of all things. It was like a bar fight. I broke it over his head. Heero slumped down to his knees, hand to his forehead. Things started to calm down. People stared at me. 

I realized I had a weapon. 

Something in me snapped. I could practically hear it when it happened. It sounded like a huge branch breaking free from a tree. I ran up to one of Heero's roommates or his roommates' friends. I had no idea who anyone was, by that time. Without even thinking about it, I stabbed him with the jagged edges of the broken bottle. Blood covered my hand in a split-second. He fell to the ground, holding his stomach. I started kicking him. I didn't stop until someone jumped on me, sending us both to the floor. People piled on top of us. More punches were thrown. The man on top of me was being pulled away. I scratched at his face so hard that one of my fingernails bent backwards. I followed him as he was pulled away. I kicked him in the groin and he doubled over. I interlocked my fingers and brought down both of my fists on top of his head. 

Still not thinking clearly, I ran up to Heero and grabbed his arm. I pulled him to his feet with strength I didn't know I had. He leaned against me even more than he had before. I practically dragged him to the front door, then outside, then into my car. Quatre was following after us. One of them grabbed on to his arm and tried to keep him from running. His shirt sleeve ripped off as he pulled free. He climbed into the back seat. 

I couldn't leave yet. Not yet. Despite my anger and Trowa and Wufei, I couldn't leave them there. I sat in the car and watched the open door expectantly. Heero was curled up in the passenger seat, holding his head, eyes closed. 

"What the hell are you waiting for, Duo?" Quatre was panicking. He wanted to leave. Now. 

"We can't just leave them in there!" 

Heero raised his head and stared at me. Quatre's jaw fell. 

"...after all that?" 

After a moment, Quatre kicked open the car door so hard I thought it would break. He went over to the side of the house. I wondered what he was doing. 

He appeared a second later, a tire iron in his hand. He went back inside. 

I realized then that we couldn't take Heero to the hospital. His roommates didn't want to go to jail over this. Neither did I. I had stabbed someone. The thought washed over me like winter. My body went numb. Heero tried to wipe off some of the blood on his face. He sniffed, then rolled down the window and spit outside. He was probably spitting up blood from his bleeding nose. I looked at him. He looked pathetic. I'm sure I didn't look much better. 

"Why did you come back here?" 

His voice sounded so weak and strained I felt I might cry, just hearing it. I put my hand on his knee and leaned closer. "You protected me a lot. It's my turn." I tried to smile. I tried to make things seem like they would be okay. I wondered if they would. 

My head was throbbing painfully. My vision was blurred. I couldn't see him very well, but I think he may have smiled, just a bit. 

The car door was thrown open again and Quatre climbed inside, shouting at me to go. I didn't even wait for him to close the door before I took off. "Where are they?" 

Quatre turned around to look behind us. "They're in Trowa's car. They're going to follow us to your place." 

I looked at him in the rearview mirror. "My place? But Heero is–" 

"We can't go to the hospital, Duo!" Quatre turned back around and leaned up between the seats to yell in my ear. Heero and I both winced at the sound. "Thanks to your superwoman attitude, we can't go to the police, either! Do you realize what will happen if anyone finds out about this? You stabbed him, Duo! I beat somebody in the head with a tire iron. I may have killed him!" 

Quatre was really freaking out. I was swerving all over the road. I didn't have anything to say. Silence poured over the car. I was thankful for it. I was having enough of a hard time trying to keep my vision from dying on me without worrying about more pain from Quatre's yelling. 

"Are you okay?" 

Quatre stared at me, arms crossed over his chest. He looked shaken over the whole ordeal, but I didn't see much more than a swollen area on his cheek, where he was punched. "I'm fine. I've just never been in a fight like that." He turned on Heero and nearly hissed, "what kind of people do you hang out with when we're not around?" 

Heero had passed out. I felt my chest clench up. "What's wrong with him!?" 

Quatre reached over the seat and felt his pulse. "He just passed out, Duo. Calm down. Watch out!" 

I swerved back into my lane, nearly avoiding the oncoming car. My heart was in my throat. I concentrated on the road. After a while, we were at my place. Quatre and Trowa struggled to get Heero up the narrow stairs. Wufei and I tagged along behind them. 

Once we were inside, I told them to set Heero down on the couch and ran to the bathroom for my pathetic excuse for a first aid kit. I didn't tend to get many injuries. All I had were band-aids, alcohol pads, and antibacterial cream. 

I knelt down on the floor next to Heero. He was breathing deeply, his mouth hanging open. The lights in the living room were bright, and I got a good look at his face. I knew I would never want to see something like that again. I knew I was the cause of it, too. I started to cry again. Quatre pushed me aside and took the first aid kit from me. 

Trowa and Wufei hovered in a corner by the window. Trowa was holding his stomach, the blood stain on his shirt getting bigger. I could have yelled at them. I could have gotten angry and blamed this whole incident on them and made them feel worse. Something in me wouldn't allow it, though. Even if I would have liked it. 

Trowa noticed I was staring at them; glaring, really. "We didn't mean for this to happen." 

"Well, it did happen." I was trying not to yell, but I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice. 

"We had no idea... I mean, I thought they were his friends. It shouldn't have escalated to this." 

"That's what happens when a bunch of homophobic assholes get drunk together!" 

Trowa winced and looked away. Wufei spoke up. "We don't have anything against you, Duo. Honestly. It's just hard for us, is all. Heero's our friend, and we see him dating someone who isn't even a gi–" 

I pointed at him. "Don't fucking say it. I'll kick you out on the street right now." 

There was silence. They looked away and wouldn't look back. I picked up some alcohol pads and a few band-aids and tossed them over. I was most worried about Trowa. He took off his shirt and inspected his stomach. There was a large gash on his side. "How did that happen?" 

"Did you see the mailbox when you drove up?" 

I tried to remember. I hadn't paid any attention to it, to be honest. Who would? "No. Why?" 

"It's gone. I broke it." 

"You fell on it?" 

He nodded and started dabbing it with an alcohol pad, hissing in pain. I realized that it wasn't very bad–at least, not life-threatening. Most of the blood had probably been from other people. 

"What happened after we left?" Wufei and Trowa looked at each other. Neither of them seemed to want to talk. They silently cleaned their scratches and scrapes. Wufei stuck an alcohol pad on a cut below his eye and held it there, wincing. "Someone damn well better tell me what happened." 

Trowa looked wretched. "They all jumped on him. There wasn't really anything we could do." 

"You just stood there and watched?" I stood up. I was ready to run to my kitchen and grab a knife and just kill them, right there in my apartment. Then I realized what was thinking and scared myself into sobriety. I was far from a murderer. I was just angry, with bloodlust clouding my thinking. 

"For a while," Wufei mumbled. 

"We eventually jumped in, but God... we didn't think it would go that far. We thought they'd just rough him up a bit, then leave him alone." 

"And he started the fight, too. He's the one who threw the first punch." 

"We were angry at him, too. He betrayed us. He kept a big secret from us and–" 

"That doesn't matter!" They jumped and became silent. I nearly hissed at them, I was so furious. "Idiots! Damn idiots! Secret or not, he's your friend!" I slowly calmed down, or maybe I just became too frustrated to keep going. I sat down on the floor and pulled at my hair. "Someone just explain it to me. Explain to me why you wouldn't help him. And don't give me any of that 'he kept a secret' bullshit." 

Quatre glanced back at me before continuing his work on Heero. "You can't understand it, Duo. You're not a guy." 

"I can certainly try. I'd probably understand it better than most girls would." 

He sighed and sat back. Heero slept peacefully, even if he wasn't really sleeping. He had two band-aids on his face: one on each cheek. "Men... tend to be homophobic. You already know that. Friends or not, if you help out someone who everyone thinks is gay, you're automatically lumped in to their category." 

I stared at him in disbelief. "You mean they refused to help him because they didn't want those assholes thinking they were gay?!" 

Quatre shrugged pathetically. He couldn't deny the statement, but he also wouldn't defend it. We both knew that. "Some of them are even gay, and in denial." 

We both glanced over at them. Wufei distanced himself from Trowa, who didn't seem to care. "That's a stereotype, Quatre." 

I sighed and stood up before walking to the kitchen to get some aspirin. I passed them around. Everyone needed them. Then I brought out a blanket and a pillow and put them on the floor, next to the couch Heero was on. I laid down and closed my eyes. "You guys can have the bed. I'm staying out here with him. There are extra blankets in the closet if you're too homophobic to sleep in the same bed." 

They didn't protest until they were in the bedroom. They started arguing over who would get the bed. I pulled the blanket over my head. It was going to be a long night. 


	13. Chapter 13

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Growing up Girl

by Jake (FarTooMasculine)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yay! I finally found a way to use my word processor to save as .html! Expect better formatting from here on out! Also, please be sure to read the author note at the bottom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was awaken in the middle of the night by something, someone, touching my arm. My eyes opened and pain filled my head. Heero's arm had fallen off the couch and his hand was on my stomach. Despite the fact that I liked to feel his touch, I pushed his arm back onto the couch. He began to snore. I sat up and looked at him. The lights were still on. His forehead was wrinkled from pain.

I thought that if I woke him up, he could take some aspirin. That would probably help him to sleep better. I kissed his bruised cheek, just to do it. Just because. Once again, I felt gratitude towards him. But I realized there was something else, some other emotion, sitting in the pit of my stomach. It certainly wasn't anger. All of the anger I'd felt towards him was gone when I realized what had happened. I couldn't be angry at him even if I had wanted to. So what was it?

I got the aspirin and a glass of water and sat down beside him again, shaking his shoulder. After a moment, he stirred and slowly sat up. He seemed confused, looking around my apartment as if he didn't recognize it. He touched his face and hissed in pain.

"What the hell happened?"

I looked at him pathetically. "You got beat up, Heero." I held out the pills and the water. "Take these. They'll get rid of the pain and you can sleep better."

He took the pills and handed the water back to me, but didn't seem to want to lay back down. I pulled the blanket up around my shoulders. He looked down at my makeshift bed. "...why are you sleeping on the floor?"

"Trowa and Wufei and Quatre have the bedroom."

"Trowa and Wufei?" He turned his head to glance toward the bedroom, but hissed in pain and turned back around. "My eyes feel like they exploded." He rubbed them. I smiled because that's exactly how I had felt.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at me. His face was swollen. He had two black eyes and looked like a distorted raccoon. I decided I'd try to keep him away from mirrors for a while. "I'm sorry about what happened, Duo."

I grabbed his hand trying to take away any guilt he was feeling. "It's okay, Heero. It was a mistake. And you protected me, yet again. I'm not mad at you."

He started to smile, but his face suddenly went white, eyes widening. He covered his mouth and stood up from the couch, scrambling to get to the bathroom. I heard him throwing up all the way out in the living room. I was worried, but I didn't get up to help him. What could I have done? He returned minutes later with a wet washrag on his forehead, his leather jacket gone.

"I must have a concussion, or something."

He was very matter-of-fact about it. I was worried. I didn't really know what the effects of concussions were. "A concussion? Is that serious? I mean, do you need to see a doctor, or–"

He waved a hand at me. "It's no big deal. I'm just not going to be in the best shape for a while." He sat back down on the couch. I sat next to him and tried to lean up against him without being too obvious. Right then, I needed to be touched and held. I was lonely, even with him right beside me. Lonely and scared.

"I stabbed him, Heero."

He pulled away from me, surprised. "Stabbed? Who?"

"One of those guys. I stabbed him. For all I know, he could be dead. I may have killed someone, Heero." He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. I curled up against his side, wanting to crawl into his lap.

"Is that why you didn't call the police?"

I nodded blankly, realizing how dumb that had been. If I had just called them to begin with, instead of going over there, none of this would have happened. But I had to be superwoman. I had to protect him, like he had done for me. I was surprised at myself. It would almost have been a good feeling, were I not worried sick about being a murderer.

"I'll go over there tomorrow and make sure everyone's okay."

I pulled away from him and shook my head. "What if they start a fight with you again?"

He shrugged. "I don't think they would. They were just drunk."

Even after all of that, Heero still didn't seem very angry about it. I just didn't understand men. I didn't. Heero slumped against the couch, head falling forward as fatigue overtook him. He struggled to keep his eyes open. I leaned my head on his shoulder and put my hand on his chest.

When I awoke, it was morning. The sun was pouring through the window like golden water. My head was pounding. It took a great effort just to go to the kitchen and get more aspirin. Heero was still asleep on the couch, snoring softly.

Wufei came out of the bedroom, looking as if he hadn't slept a wink. He noticed the look I was giving him and sneered. "Those bastards made me sleep on the floor." I didn't even feel up to giving him any pity. I doubt I would have, even if I had felt up to it.

He glanced over to Heero. "How's he doing?"

"He has a concussion. But I think he's alright." I sat down on a stool and leaned up against the counter, staring into my glass of water. "There's more aspirin on the counter if you need it."

"No thanks." He sat down on the stool next to mine and leaned against the counter, staring at me. I peered at him. "I'm really sorry for last night." I nearly snorted. I was still angry with him. "If it means anything, I think you're... very pretty, Duo. I mean... I never would have guessed."

Even though I didn't want it, his comment made me feel a bit better, at least about myself. No one had ever told me that before. I sighed and stared into my water glass. "I didn't ask to be this way, you know."

"I know."

"It's just who I am. I can't change it."

"I know."

We sat in silence until Quatre came out of the bedroom. He looked slightly more rested, but also unbelievably stressed. I felt sorry for him, for making him go back in that house and continue fighting. "There's aspirin on the counter. Juice in the fridge. Food if you want it."

He helped himself to two aspirins and a glass of orange juice, then stood at the counter. We sat in silence. Trowa eventually came out, too, and took more aspirin.

We were a sorry bunch. I'm sure we all looked like hell.

It was nearly noon when we finally decided to wake Heero up to check on him. They gave me the honor of doing that. I knelt down beside the couch and shook his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes, then winced as the light hit them.

"Wha-? What time is it?" He rubbed at his eyes, slowly sitting up.

"Almost noon."

"Guess we need to get going."

Quatre leaned against the back of the couch, peering at both of us. "Going? Where the hell you think you're gonna go, in that state?"

He turned his whole body to look at Quatre, then stood up. "To my place. Gotta check and see if everyone's okay."

Once again, Quatre's jaw fell. "You must be out of your mind, Heero!"

Heero and I both winced at the sound, yet again. I was getting really tired of Quatre raising his voice.

Trowa spoke up. "You beat those guys over the head with a tire iron, Quatre. Aren't you even a little worried about them?"

Quatre suddenly looked contrite. "Well, yeah, but... what if they start another fight?"

"We'll go with you guys."

Eventually, we made it out to Trowa's car. Heero, Quatre, and myself climbed in the backseat. It was a somber drive. Heero nearly fell asleep again. I had to shake him a few times to keep him awake.

When we pulled up in front of his house, there was a dead silence. I felt like we were the only people left on Earth. The streets and sidewalks were empty. All of us were hesitant. Heero got out first and walked slowly towards the door. I nearly got out to follow him, but Quatre stopped me. "The last person they'd want to see is you, Duo. No offense."

Trowa got out of the car and followed him inside.

For the longest time, we just sat there and waited. Wufei turned on the radio, but Quatre made him turn it back off because it made my headache worse. He tapped a tune out on the side of the door. Quatre picked his fingernails.

We all looked up when we heard the door close. Heero walked over to the carport and got on his bike. He was wearing a backpack. He started up the bike as Trowa climbed back in the car. We all stared at him expectantly. "No one's dead." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. "But God, you guys really messed them up." He was addressing Quatre and myself. I sank lower in the seat. "Obviously, Heero's not going to stay there anymore."

I panicked as I watched him drive slowly out onto the street and down the road. "Where-? Where's he going?"

"To a hotel, I guess. I really don't know."

I pulled on Trowa's seat and sat up. "No! He can stay with me. We gotta catch him! Go!"

Everyone stared at me except Trowa, who quickly started the car and pulled out. It wasn't long before we caught up to him. He was slightly hunched over on the bike, and it worried me. Trowa honked his horn and he sat up straight, swerving slightly, then slowed down and glanced over his shoulder at us. The road eventually turned to two lanes and we pulled up beside him.

We couldn't see his face behind the shield as we all tried to gesture to him to follow us. He nodded and continued to drive. I watched him the whole time, worrying, hoping he wouldn't lose control of the bike. Or lose consciousness while he was on it. He waved at me, just a bit.

I smiled and waved back.

When we got back to my place, I climbed out of the car and jogged over to Heero. He was pulling off the helmet very slowly. The material touching his face as he pulled it off hurt him. "You can stay with me," I blurted out as soon as he'd shut off the bike. "I mean, it's the least I can do," I tried to explain.

He smirked at me and nodded. "Alright, then."

Quatre stuck his head out the window and told me that they were going to take off. I waved at them, shielding my eyes from the sun. "Thanks for letting us stay last night."

"You guys take care of yourselves," I told them. Then I looked over at Heero. He sighed. I stepped closer to him. He got off the bike and took off his backpack. I guessed it had some of his clothes in it.

"Thanks for doing this, Duo. I don't know how long I'd be able to afford a hotel."

We went up to my apartment. I closed the blinds in my bedroom, drew the curtains, and climbed into bed. Heero wasn't far behind. I pulled back the blankets and patted the bed, offering up the other side. He gratefully accepted my offer, closing the door behind him.

The room was dark. I was thankful I'd made thick curtains for the windows. We both lay there, rubbing our heads. I'm sure Heero felt worse than me, but I didn't exactly feel wonderful.

After a while, he fell back asleep. I inched closer to him and curled up at his side. I felt more comfortable than I'd ever felt sleeping in that bed alone, and I fell asleep in seconds.

It was night when we finally woke up. The room was nearly pitch-black. I whispered at Heero in the dark, asking if he was awake. He put his hand on mine. I realized that it was on his chest. He gave my shoulder a squeeze.

I smiled and sat up a bit to look at him. "You need a shower." His shirt smelled. And he probably had dried blood all in his hair.

"I probably do."

He stood up and went to the bathroom and turned on the light. I closed my eyes and only opened them again when I heard the door close. The hiss of running water was the only sound in the apartment. I decided to order a pizza for dinner. I knew Heero didn't feel like cooking. I certainly didn't.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Heero exited the bathroom, wearing a clean pair of pants and nothing more. He curled back up in the bed, smelling fresh and clean. I didn't say anything.

"I have to go home next weekend," he said, breaking the silence. He looked at me in the darkness. I could barely make out his eyes. He was looking right at mine. I pulled the blanket up a little higher.

"How long will you be gone?"

"Friday to Sunday. My mother's birthday."

I looked away from him, nodding. There wasn't really much to say to that. I didn't even know why he was telling me, but I realized why after what he said next.

He slid closer to me in the bed. "Would you like to go?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's note: I realized when I first started writing this story, maybe in the second or third chapter, that it just _wasn't_ going to work out. Duo Maxwell's personality is completely and totally masculine. Trying to make him into a male-to-female was impossible. Other people have noticed this, that it's OOC, and commented.

I'm upset by this.

I'd originally had another story planned, to be honest. But I ended up writing this one, instead. Now, much later into it, I'm starting to regret that action. The more I write, the more I think back to my original idea and want to get to work on it.

Therefore, I will be putting this story on semi-hold. Not a complete hold, mind you, but the chapters will probably not come out as quickly as they have been. I'm going back to my original idea. I'm going to work on it. I'm going to pour my soul into it. You will be able to find the story under the title, "Soul on Fire," probably in a day or two. It is certain to be much more in-character, much more exciting, and much more in-depth.

If there are any serious complaints about me slowing down this story, or if you read some of Soul on Fire and think that it's complete and total crap compared to this, please let me know. Peoples' comments on my work DO mean a lot to me.


	14. Chapter 14

Growing up Girl

by Jake (Static Prose)

Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.

Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.

I went in the bathroom and took a shower, after telling Heero that I'd ordered a pizza and giving him some money to pay for it. I couldn't answer his question. Not yet. As I stood there bathing myself, I thought up questions I needed to ask. I realized the things I needed to know.

When I left the bathroom, wearing fresh, clean clothes and a towel around my head for my hair, Heero was still in the bed, a pizza sitting next to him. My lamp was turned on. We were both adjusting to the dull throb in our heads that light caused. I sat down next to him, opening the pizza box to grab a slice. Heero grabbed one, too. He had waited for me to return before eating.

I was halfway through my second slice before I decided to start the conversation that we needed to have. "Heero...?"

He pulled the pizza away from his mouth and stared at me, asking "what?" with his eyes.

"If..." I lost the words and struggled to find them again. "If I were to go with you this weekend... to see your parents... what would that mean?"

He glanced around the room nervously, looking confused. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Come on, Heero. Think about it for a minute. A guy taking a girl home to meet his parents?" I hoped he'd gotten the idea of what I was trying to say. I didn't want to have to be too blunt about it.

He smiled and shook his head before looking at me. His eyes were soft. I'd never seen him look at me like that before. It made me feel... complete. "How about you take it however you want to take it?"

"And if I want it to mean that we're in some sort of 'serious relationship'?"

He shrugged. "That's fine."

I tried my best to get the subtle hints he was sending. He stopped looking at me and started picking at the blanket nervously. His pizza slice was forgotten in his hand. I realized he was shy. He was too shy to ask me formally and was doing it in a roundabout way. I suddenly felt a surge of emotions over that. I leaned closer to him.

"I'd love to meet your parents, Heero." He smiled and leaned in a bit, tilting his head as if he would kiss me. I watched his eyes, his lips. He hesitated.

I closed the distance between us.

It was nothing more than a short, quick, pizza-tasting kiss, but it felt wonderful. We both nervously went back to eating our pizza.

After Heero's fourth slice, and my third, we both had full, content bellies. I was ready to go back to sleep. I didn't know why, but I felt generally tired. The stress, the emotions, the pain. All of it had gotten to me.

Heero left the room and got us both glasses of iced tea and napkins. We drank a bit, cleaned off our hands and faces, and curled back up under the blankets. I set the pizza box on the floor and Heero turned out the light.

He was awake, and I wanted to curl up beside him again. There was no more than an inch of space between us, but it felt like an ocean of distance. I mentally grumbled to myself about my reluctance until I felt Heero sliding closer to me. He rolled on his side and put his arm around my middle.

"Are you awake?"

He said yes and held me tighter. Happiness came over me. He was holding me. He had taken the first step and was holding me. I turned to face him and wrapped my arm around his waist and buried my face in his neck. Like some sort of burrowing animal.

He pushed the towel off my head and ran his fingers through my wet hair. And we fell asleep like that, curled up with one another; happily curled up with one another.

We slept through the night and woke up in each other's arms. I struggled to remember what day it was as I went out to the living room. The entire weekend was blurring together for me and I still had a slight headache. I turned on the television, hoping to catch a news program. Heero followed me not soon after, the pizza box in his hand. He was eating a slice of it. Cold. "That's disgusting, Heero."

He stared at me strangely, mouth full of old, cold pizza. "What?"

"That pizza was sitting on the floor all night." He shrugged and took another bite, sitting down on the couch next to me. He was still shirtless. I flipped through the channels. "Do you know what day it is, Heero?"

Even he had to take a moment to think about it. "Should be Sunday." I relaxed a bit. I'd had a fear that it was already Monday and I'd be late for work. Tension relieved, I settled back onto the couch, trying to find something on tv. I ran my fingers through my hair a bit, pulling apart tangles. Some of it was still damp; the rest of it was wavy as hell. Heero finished off the pizza, probably figuring I wouldn't want a slice. I hadn't wanted a slice.

The day was spent casually. We laid around and watched television. Sometimes we'd curl up with each other. I used his lap as a pillow and he played with my hair. He used my lap as a footrest and stretched out on the couch. We watched cartoons and music videos and ate popcorn and potato chips. When nighttime rolled around, the sun setting over the distant horizon, we decided to order chinese for dinner. We ate chicken fried rice and egg drop soup and beef and broccoli stir fry out of cardboard cartons. Heero wielded his chopsticks with ease and grace. I used a fork.

We went to bed after the 10 o'clock news. Once again, we fell asleep curled in each others' arms. I slept heavily and woke fully rested as my alarm went off. Heero was already gone by the time I woke up. I was worried until I found the note next to my alarm clock.

"Gone to school, then work. Be back around 10. Heero."

I got dressed and went to work. The day flew by. For some reason, I never really found myself getting bored. I was in a constant state of happiness and anticipation, wanting to get home and see Heero. I knew he wouldn't be there to greet me, but I couldn't wait to sit around and wait for him.

The day ended. I rode home on the bus. I kicked off my shoes in the living room and curled up on a corner of the couch to watch television. I'd left the door unlocked and when he came home, around ten just like his note said, I peered over the back of the couch at him. We smiled at each other. After a while, we went to bed.

I fell back into a new pattern. The same thing happened every day.

When the weekend rolled around, Heero was up and dragging me out of bed at 6am. I felt groggy and lethargic because I was used to sleeping in on Saturdays. Heero already had all of his clothes packed up. He'd kept them in his backpack since the day he'd left his home because I was too shy to clear out a dresser drawer and tell him he could use it–mainly because I wasn't sure just how permanent these living arrangements would be. I threw a few things into a large bag I'd acquired from who-knows-where and went about getting ready. I didn't take very long, and when I stepped out of the bedroom, fully dressed but looking tired as hell, Heero was surprised.

"I thought girls took forever to get ready?"

"Not this one," I said simply, wondering if I should be offended. Was he implying that I was somehow masculine in the rate at which I dress myself? I realized it was stupid to even bother thinking like that. Heero took my bag from me and we went downstairs to the bike. His face only had one bruise left on it, I noticed. I wondered how long the trip would be as I quickly braided my hair. "I probably should have asked this earlier," I started as Heero climbed onto the bike, "but where do your parents live?"

"Down south. In Kingsland."

My head fell back and I rolled my eyes. "Good God, Heero. That's very down south. That's practically in Florida."

He shrugged. "Shouldn't take more than an hour and a half."

"Now I see why we got up so early," I whined, climbing on the back of the bike and snatching the helmet from Heero. I slammed it down on my head, wrapped the strap of my bag around my torso, and grabbed his waist. He started up the bike and took off. I felt like I was ready to fall asleep right there.

The sun took its sweet time to climb fully over the horizon, but eventually the dull gray of early morning gave way to the bright sun of day. I'd never ridden with Heero on the interstate with other cars around. It was a new and surprisingly frightening experience. We were probably going more than 100 miles per hour and Heero drove the bike like he'd been riding it since birth. We weaved between cars, flying from one lane to the next. The wind whipped at my braid, making it wave tauntingly to the people we flew past. I smiled. I felt alive. I'd never gone so fast.

Eventually, the bike faded into the right-hand lane and we got on an off ramp. Kingsland wasn't exactly a large city, but it wasn't very small, either. We went down a few streets that I didn't bother to pay attention to. The sounds of the highway quickly faded as we drove slowly through a residential area. All of the houses looked exactly the same. Eventually, Heero pulled into a driveway, shut off the bike, and removed his helmet. "We're here."

I took off my own helmet and stepped off the bike. I felt nervous. Very, very nervous, and almost excited. I was going to meet his parents. I wondered what they'd be like. I was worried that they wouldn't like me. I was scared that I'd forgotten to pack clean underwear.

Heero's mother came out of the front door. She was a tiny woman with dark black hair pinned up in a bun and small, dark eyes. She was Asian, I realized. "Heero-kun!" she said excitedly, arms spreading wide as she walked up to him and embraced him in a tight hug. She broke into a flurry of quick Japanese that surprised me. I was even more surprised when Heero responded in his own fluent Japanese. He introduced me in Japanese. I looked at him, feeling lost. I didn't know any of the language.

Luckily, his mother also spoke fluent English, with only a slight accent. "Duo Maxwell? You are a very pretty girl." She smiled at me and gave me an unexpected hug. I reluctantly returned it. "I'm Emara; you can call me mom if you like."

I glanced over at Heero, who just shrugged and grinned. His mother asked him something in Japanese. Heero looked embarrassed and answered shortly before heading towards the front door. His mother and I followed. She walked beside me, smiling and shooting me looks. "You are my son's girlfriend?"

I gulped and glanced ahead of me. Heero was walking through the front door and hadn't seemed to hear. I smiled just a bit. "I guess so." It felt good to say that, and it was then that I realized just how much I did want to be his girlfriend. His real girlfriend. I wanted to be in a serious relationship and have him admit to it without any kind of shyness.

Heero's father was sitting on the sofa, watching television. He had a beer in one hand and was wearing a pair of sweat pants and a tank shirt. He was a very large man. I realized he was even larger than I'd thought when he stood up to greet me, nearly shoving Heero, who was standing in front of him, out of the way. "This your girlfriend?" he asked in a deep, bellowing voice. He had a stomach like a barrel and arms like thick pieces of meat and gigantic, hairy hands. I realized Emara had lowered her head.

Heero glared at him. Heero's father stared at me. "She's a pretty one. And I was under the impression that you were gay."

My mouth fell open slightly. Heero came to my side and grabbed my arm, leading me down the hallway. His grip on my arm was a bit tight and I pulled away from him. He was seething. "We'll sleep in my old room," he said blankly, pushing open the door and walking inside. It was a bare bedroom with nothing more than a bed, a dresser, and a lamp. Heero threw his bag on the floor and kicked it into a corner.

I sat on the bed, sitting my bag down, and watched him. He paced a moment before sitting down on the floor, fingers interlaced in front of his face. He stared out the window.

"I take it you and your father don't get along very well."

"He's not my father," Heero spat acidly. I raised my eyebrows. He looked at me and took a deep breath to calm down. "Mom wasn't married when she had me. That's why I have her last name, Yuy." I nodded. "I was about seven when she married that jerk out there." He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "His name is Jack," he said simply, probably just feeling that it was necessary to inform me, not that he wanted to.

"Honestly, I didn't know you were Japanese."

"Well, only half. You couldn't tell?" He smirked slightly. I peered at him, trying to see it. I'd never noticed the slight slanting of his large, dark blue eyes. That, his name, and his small frame, was probably the only thing that would lead you to realizing it.

"Jack Jr!" His father's voice came into the bedroom like an uninvited specter. "Get your skinny ass out here and help your mom with lunch!"

Heero rolled his eyes like he was ready to just leave. "He calls me that, by the way," he told me, looking very agitated. "Says I'm an American and should have an American name."

I felt sorry for Heero. I know that was probably the last thing he wanted, but I felt it anyway. And I had thought that my parents were bad. Heero stood up and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on a corner of the bed's headboard. He was wearing another white t-shirt with rolled up sleeves. I wondered why his father called him skinny. He may have been thin, but it was all toned, flexing muscle. I stood up and followed him out of the room, sticking to the walls and hoping his father wouldn't see me.

In the kitchen, his mother was cooking a japanese meal. I had come to offer my help, but I realized that I didn't know what any of it was, and helping with it was out of the question. There was a grilled cheese sandwich in a pan. Maybe I could help with that.

"Need any help, ma?"

She glanced back at Heero and smiled, "No, I think I've got it." Then she noticed me. "Oh, Duo. You come with me. Heero, don't let your father's sandwich burn." Without questioning it, Heero took over cooking.

Confused, I followed Heero's mother into her bedroom. She opened the door to the closet and turned on the light. "See box way up on top? Can you reach?" I was taller than she was, surprisingly, but it was still a stretch to grab the box she was pointing at. It was the box of a pair of large mens' work boots. I handed it over. She sat down on the floor, feet underneath her. I realized that I'd seen something like that before, either in pictures or movies or both. It was like in those Japanese tea ceremonies, with the women all dressed up in kimonos, their faces painted white. Instead of tea, though, there was a shoe box in front of her. She lovingly opened it as I sat down in front of her, indian style. I peered into the box. There were photos inside.

"These are pictures of my Heero. You want to look at?"

I smiled a bit as she took a few out and handed them over. I remembered Heero from when we were younger, but she didn't know that. The first pictures I saw were him as a baby. There were pictures of him with his mother, who looked very young at the time, the scenery around them strange, buildings like nothing I'd seen in America. I realized they were taken in Japan. I looked up at her and saw the wrinkles around her tired-looking eyes, the graying hair. She was a beautiful woman. I realized that she was where Heero got all of his attractive features.

I flipped through more pictures. He looked happy in all of them. Heero at the beach, Heero in a pool, Heero playing basketball as a young child with people who were much older, Heero riding a horse, Heero on Halloween, dressed as a soldier, Heero with other children at a birthday party. It was outside, in a back yard. Everyone was sitting at a picnic table, presents piled high nearby. Heero was standing off to the side in that picture, looking at the other children gathered around the cake. He looked introspective, not smiling, almost sad. I stared at it for a long time.

"That was from his seventh birthday," his mother said sadly.

I stared at it. I would never have imagined that it was his own birthday party. He didn't seem to be the center of attention that most children would be. "He looks sad."

Emara nodded slowly. "I had been married only a week. They never got along well."

I peered closer at the picture and noticed a shadow on his face. It took a moment to realize that it wasn't a shadow–it was a bruise. I started looking through more pictures. He was no longer smiling in any of them. Jack was beside him in a lot of them. There were some of Jack teaching him things: Heero being taught how to change the tire on a car, bruises on his arm, Heero as a young man, being taught to use a shotgun out in the woods, a bruise on his face, Heero dressed up in his military school uniform, standing at full attention, Jack beside him, pointing, probably telling him what he was doing wrong. There was one of the three of them at an amusement park. Heero had his arm around Emara, but wasn't smiling. Jack was on the other side, and Heero was glaring at him. Then there was one of the three of them in front of this very house, a sign stuck in the ground beside them, a big red "sold" sticker on it. It looked like a demented version of the painting "American Gothic." Heero had a black eye.

I felt a lump in my throat as if I were ready to cry. I wanted to say something about the bruises in all of the pictures. I wanted to say something about the fact that he was never happy after that man entered his life. Looking at Emara, the sad look in her eyes, I knew it was pointless. She knew it all. She'd probably heard it all before. It wasn't my place. I handed her the photos.

"Heero is a kind person," she said quietly. I watched her replace the lid on the shoe box. "Jack can not find out." I stared at her, confused, wondering what she was talking about. "That's why I showed you these. If he finds out about you, he will never allow me to see Heero again."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Finds out about me?"

She looked at me, eyebrows lowered. She looked more concerned than angry. "Duo Maxwell went to school with my son," she said plainly. I lowered my head, feeling ashamed to be who I was. Ashamed and embarrassed. His mother knew my secret. "He talked about you with me, once. Never told anything to Jack, but I knew. I'm happy for you, Duo, for finding who you are. But if Jack knows, there will be problems."

I felt numb and lost and still very embarrassed. She put her hand on my shoulder. "I'll... make sure he doesn't find out." Her hand moved to my face. I looked up at her.

"Do not feel bad about it. It's a good thing."

I realized that, even though she could speak English, she didn't have the largest vocabulary. She used simple words to express what she was trying to say. She wasn't attacking me or accusing me. She didn't see any problems with me being who I was. By showing me the pictures, she was letting me know that Jack was not a nice man, and the last thing I should do would be to cause problems between them. I nodded.

Heero appeared at the doorway. We both looked over at him. He noticed the box. They started to speak back and forth in Japanese. Emara got up gracefully and walked out of the room. "Lunch is ready," Heero said.

I stood up and walked towards him. "Why didn't you tell me, Heero?"

"Tell you what?" He asked, agitated. I looked away. I didn't even know what. Why didn't he tell me that he was abused as a child? Why didn't he tell me that his mother knew about me? Why didn't he tell me anything about his past? Why did I have to come here and find out from his mother the way I did? Why didn't he warn me that his father was such a creep?

He turned around and began walking down the hall, towards the dining room. I followed him, still feeling numb. It was the only thing I could do.

TBC...


	15. Chapter 15

Growing up Girl

by Jake (FarTooMasculine)

Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.

Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.

BIG, BIG NOTE: Sorry for the wait! I've moved in with my girlfriend recently, and don't have much time to write anymore. I'm starting to work out a pattern, though, so expect faster chapters now that I've gotten into the groove of things. )

Lunch with Heero's parents was, at best, an interesting experience that was none too enjoyable. Heero's mother was silent throughout, but his father was raucous. I learned that he worked in construction, oversaw the workload of over fifty men, and was generally the "big cheese" out at the site. That's his wording, not mine. I would never use the word "big cheese" to describe him. Big jerk, maybe.

Why he felt the need to share this information with me, I have no idea. From the time he started talking to the time he finally went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and walked back into the living room, I kept my head down, eyes focused solely on the exotic foods in front of me. Sometimes I would give a half-hearted nod when he would pointedly stare at me and ask, "You listening, honey?"

The fact that he called me honey disgusted me.

I found that I couldn't even look at him any more without feeling a blush of anger tinge my cheeks. I hated him. I hated what he'd done to Heero. I hated what he'd done to Emara. I hated the look on his face when he stared at me silently, when no one else seemed to be paying attention. I remembered that look from my time working the streets, and it was one that I never wanted to see again.

After lunch, Heero took me out back. There was a screened-in area with a swimming pool. The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. Heero sat down in one of the plastic chairs. I sat on the edge of the pool and dipped my feet into the cool water. The pool pumps hummed quietly nearby. A lizard scampered past Heero's feet.

"What do you think of my family?" he finally asked me, sitting back in the chair. He was squinting slightly in the bright sun.

I wondered if I should tell him that his father made me uneasy. Then I thought better of it. Heero could possibly take offense to that. The man was, after all, his step-father. However lousy he was. "Your mother's very nice."

"Yeah. I guess so."

There was a moment's hesitation, and then, "Want to go swimming?"

The question caught me off guard. I didn't even own a bathing suit to wear. And even if I had owned one, I wouldn't have brought it with me. I didn't know they had a pool. "I don't have a bathing suit." I also couldn't swim very well.

"My mother probably has one you could borrow. You look about the same size."

"I think your mom's a little shorter than me." I pinched my thumb and forefinger together to emphasize my point.

"Could swim naked."

My mouth fell open and I stared at him, wide-eyed. It was only after flapping my mouth like a fish that I noticed the playful smirk on his face. My eyebrows lowered in mock anger. I splashed some of the pool water at him with my hand, hitting him with a few drops. "Pervert. I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't mind." He stood from his plastic lawn chair and headed back inside through the sliding glass doors. I heard him calling for his mother as I watched him walk further into the house and around a corner. I felt my cheeks heat up and my stomach clench up. Was he going to ask for a bathing suit? I didn't know if I was ready to let him see me in such form-fitting clothes. I knew I was lucky, though... I no longer had to hide my lower half, because I'd had surgery. I still wasn't completely comfortable with some parts of my body, though. I had a long torso, like most men, legs coming together a bit too high for a normal female. And my shoulders were still wider than they should have been. My hips weren't large and round. I guess being skinny had its down side. I never really paid attention to my legs, but they were probably more muscular than they should have been.

Heero returned moments later, a shred of black fabric in his hand. He went to where I was sitting at the pool and knelt down beside me. "Mom says you can borrow this." He put the bathing suit in my lap. "Says it'll probably fit. If it doesn't, we'll just go buy you one."

I nodded, numbly picking up the bathing suit before I stood and headed for the door. I wasn't really liking this idea. Heero told me that I could change in his room, so I padded silently down the hall and closed the door behind me, locking it. I unfolded the bathing suit from itself, staring at it. It was a conservative, silky thing—a plain black one-piece with some mesh-like fabric at the top, right above the breast of it. It also had no back; just a butt and a snap at the neck. I sighed and began to shed my clothes, reminding myself that I was doing this for Heero, so that Heero could go swimming and have some fun. That thought made it a little more easy for me.

Once I had the bathing suit on, I went into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. Boy, was that a mistake. I frowned at the sight that greeted me, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. It had been a long, long time since I'd seen myself naked, and this was the closest thing I knew I would ever get to doing it again. My shoulders were wide and square, and my hips pissed me off. They looked like man hips. Even my arms, to my eyes, looked like man arms.

There was a knock at the door and I jumped, arms instinctively going up to cover myself. Heero was on the other side. "What's taking so long?"

"I... uh... I'm looking for a towel."

"I've already got some out here." I hesitantly opened the door and took a towel from Heero's hand, wrapping it around myself. I felt exposed. He stared at me strangely as I walked past.

We walked out to the pool again. Heero immediately divested himself of his t-shirt and sandals. I realized he had changed into his swim trunks, too. Without much hesitation, he did a near-running dive into the pool, not splashing much water. Well, at least someone knew what they were doing. I sat on the edge of the pool above the steps and slowly eased myself in, towel still around me.

Heero was staring at me, paddling his legs and arms to keep himself afloat in the deep end. "What are you waiting for?"

I frowned at him and tossed the towel aside, immediately dunking myself into the water, hoping it provided some cover. "I don't really know how to swim all that great." I watched his head fall under water, and then he was swimming towards me. I curled in on myself, knowing he had his eyes open. I shouldn't have felt so self-conscious, but I did. He stood up right in front of me, and I was forced to see with incredible clarity, his water-dripping chest and the sunlight shining on it. I frowned, knowing I was staring. He moved a hand out to my arm and I watched his chest flex with the motions, not caring that he was touching me when I was feeling so vulnerable. "Come on... you can hang onto my arm if you start to drown."

I glared at him, not really annoyed. "I'm not that bad!" I pushed away from him and started to swim around, happy that I was in the shallow side and the ground was right below me. I could stand up if things got difficult. Unfortunately, the only thing I knew how to do, really, was paddle like a dog. Heero watched me, smirking.

"What are _you_ smirking about?"

"You look like a dog." I stood up and barked at him, literally, before diving under water. When my head was under, I could swim a little better. I opened my eyes to watch where I was going, and the chlorine stung them. Just as I was getting ready to go up for air, Heero grabbed on to one of my feet and pulled me back down. I punched him in the shoulder playfully and he let me go, allowing me to float to the surface.

He eventually came up right in front of me. I ducked the lower half of my face underwater and stared at him. We both flailed our arms and legs to stay afloat.

I grinned, lifted my head up, and spit water right in his face, laughing. He put a hand on top of my head and pushed me under. I came up sputtering and coughing.

And so the afternoon went by. We played around in the pool like children. I even climbed out once or twice and ran to the other end to get away from him. And I didn't even feel self-conscious. Once we were worn out, I ended up reclining on a big purple pool float. Heero had his arms crossed and resting at the foot of it, head nestled into them, eyes closed. We floated idly around the pool until Emara called us in to dinner.

We got out, wrapped ourselves in towels, and went to change into dry clothes. I was the last one out, my hair unbraided as I ran my fingers through the wet mass. Everyone was already sitting at the table. I could see the slightest smile on Heero's face. I sat down at the table, feeling a little embarrassed that I'd taken so long and made them wait.

Ritualistic habits like praying were not common in this house. As soon as I sat down, everyone started to dish out their food. It was more Japanese cuisine, except for Jack. He was eating a bowl of soup and a large sandwich and washing it down with a beer. I looked over at him. He looked drunk. I frowned and helped myself to some rice and some sort of beef entrée. "This looks wonderful, Ms. Yuy."

She smiled at me in thanks and I started to eat. Jack started talking again. "Did you two have fun in the pool out there?" Heero and I nodded mutely. "We had that put in when Jack Jr. was still a kid. Cost a lot of money." He was talking to me now. I stared at my food, but nodded again. "Jack Jr. didn't like it at first. Wouldn't set foot in it. Said it was because I paid for it, he didn't want it."

I glanced up at Heero. He was frowning. Couldn't say I blamed him.

"But apparently, our little Jackie got over that pretty fast."

After dinner, I helped Emara clear the table, but she refused help with washing the dishes, so I went back into Heero's room. I found him reclining on the bed, reading a magazine. Surprise, it was about motorcycles. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. "Why is your step-father like that?"

"Like what?" he asked, without looking up.

"I mean, why does he seem like he's always trying to pick a fight with you?"

He put the magazine aside and sat up, rubbing his cheek in thought, seeming like he didn't want to look at me. "I guess he wants a rematch."

I raised an eyebrow. "Rematch?"

Heero sighed. "We used to get into fights all the time, and he always 'won,' I guess you could say. Then a few years ago, during summer vacation, we got into one and... I won. He's been pushing for more ever since, but I've just learned to keep my mouth shut. I don't want to fight him anymore."

I sighed, crossing the room to sit down on the bed in front of him. I put my hand on his ankle, pulling at his jeans and staring at his shoe. I didn't know what I wanted to say, maybe some words of comfort, but I couldn't think of anything. He covered my hand with his and I looked up at him. He didn't speak.

"So you beat up your own step-father?" There was a slight grin on my face. I already didn't like the man, and I'd never been one to really forgive and forget. He was a horrible man, and the idea of Heero beating the crap out of him rather appealed to me. "I would have liked to have seen that."

He smirked and lay back down on the bed. I crawled up beside him and hesitantly rested my head on his chest. He didn't protest, not that I really expected him to. We sat there in silence until, sometime later, I fell asleep.

When I awoke in the morning, the bedroom light was off, we were under the covers, and Heero's chest was bare. I nuzzled my face into his pectoral muscle, grinning sleepily. My fingers went to his side and poked him lightly, trying to tickle him awake. He cracked open an eye and looked down at me. "Good morning, sleeping handsome." He smirked. "Isn't today your mother's birthday?"

He nodded sleepily and yawned, rolling over to face me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I burrowed into the comforting embrace of his arms. "Do you have anything planned, or are you just going to give her a gift and hang around?"

"We're supposed to go to a movie tonight, if that counts for anything."

"Aw... no party? No cake and ice cream?"

"I think my mother's a little old for that."

I frowned, realizing that I hadn't even thought to buy his mother a gift for her birthday. Even if I had, I wouldn't have known what to get her. I didn't even know the woman before yesterday. "I didn't get your mother a present."

He sighed and squished his chest into my face, trying to silence me. "I put your name on the card. Go back to sleep."

I stared into my dark crevice of Heero's chest. I didn't think I could sleep. Eventually, I wormed out of his grip and stood up to stretch. I was still in the clothes from yesterday, but needed to change into some clean ones. I glanced back at Heero. He seemed to be sleeping. I decided to just change in the room, digging through my bag for a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt. When I was undressed, getting ready to slide my shorts on, Heero rolled over and looked at me, smiling. Surprised, I tripped on the shorts and fell onto the floor. "Heero! Dammit, I thought you were asleep!"

He chuckled at me, sitting up. "With all that noise you were making, how could you think I was asleep?"

I tried to cover myself with the shorts. At least I was still wearing my underwear. "You know, you have all the common courtesy of a Neanderthal."

"Oh, please... we've been living together for at least a week now. I think I deserve to see you in your underwear."

I rolled my eyes and slid the shorts and shirt on while still sitting on the floor. Heero watched me the whole time. I felt like an ant under his magnifying glass. "You know, you stare like a vulture."

Satisfied that he wasn't going to get a free peep show, he rolled back over and pulled the blanket up to his neck. I grabbed his discarded motorcycle magazine and flipped through it, stretching out on my stomach on the floor. "How did you get so into motorcycles, anyway?"

Heero sighed, rolling back over. "I just got one when I was sixteen and fell in love. Simple as that."

I nodded. "I think I should get one. Are they expensive?"

"Not as expensive as cars." He stared down at me on the floor. Well, glared is the proper word, I suppose. "You're not going to let me go back to sleep, are you?"

I shook my head, smiling secretly at the magazine and a picture of a half-naked woman on top of a Harley Davidson. Heero checked his watch. I guess he realized it was late enough to drag himself out of bed. "Christ... just once, I'd like to sleep in late. Just once." I watched him slump his way over to his bag and grab another white t-shirt. This one was one I hadn't seen, though. It had a black outline of wings on the back, the design looking surprisingly similar to those on his helmets.

"I like your shirt."

He craned his neck around to try and see the design on the back. "Oh... yeah. It's kind of old. Need to get a new one."

"What's your fascination with wings?"

He shrugged, probably not wanting to explain it yet. I made a mental note to ask him at a later time. "I just like them, I guess. Want to go pick up some breakfast?"

TBC...


End file.
